Quantum-Jay Basu


One year – just a year’s time – isn’t enough

of enough time to descend from the bliss

of innocence to the trauma of experience?

To the Dublin boy of Joyce’s Araby it was but

Just a late night’s harrowing of a hidden clod

Of exotic romance he bore holily like ‘a chalice

To a knight’ in the valley of his ‘O, love! O, love!’

He changed in an instant gazing into the dark

Burning in anguish and self-mockery of a fool

Made wise and wary of the myths of romance!

One night just must be enough of enough time

To crush a Lady Macbeth to the broken pieces

Of ranting prose and mumbling out of her sin

Smelling blood on still an un-sweetened hand.

Like the history of ‘phenomena’, that of ‘mind’

Changes on the spot of time in quality, though

You may contend fancifully that we grow slow,

Bit by bit: no, dear! it’s only quantities that glue

Together, over the passage of time, like dusts

Settling on the old furniture and being brushed

Off at one sweep, leaving not a scratch behind.

The girl that chases the flutter of butterfly is

The archetype of Eve’s innocence in paradise

Gagged into a moment’s sack, shaken up and

Made to bleed from hymen is a woman now:

What a quantum leap from paradise to earth!