Shared memories

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This one is from a very dear friend...

"On a verdant hill,

endeared,the wind and the waves

a bastion of sweet memories."

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In the Summer...With Her

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Sunlight is peering in through the crack
and is throwing patterns on the mud walls.
I am curled up on the mat reminiscing
about the dream from last night.
Outside, I hear everyday chores breaking
the silence of the summer morning.
I lazily get up and go to the kitchen
still holding the ruffled pillow.
I see my grandma
bent over the earthen stove
blowing through the metal pipe.
Her eyes are wet from the smoke
and she is wiping her cheeks with
the red border of her yellow sari.
Her wet hair wound up in a towel
is tucked behind her neck.
Drops from a loose strand is wetting
the sleeve of her cotton blouse.
She shifts a little to adjust her silver anklets
and sees me watching her, smiles.
“You are up?”
She brings my tea in a stainless steel glass,
takes the pillow from my hand
and kisses my forehead.
She dusts the loose strands of thread
from my shirt and smoothens my hair.
I kiss her, her skin soft against my lips
And she runs her hand on my face.
I take my tea outside and sit on the veranda:
the first sun of my vacation is already up.

The goats are on their way to the hills,
the shepherds, with sticks in their hands
are walking behind them, still yawning.
Bare backed men, driving the cows,
are headed to the fields to the south.
Smiling women in colorful saris
stand at the old municipal bore-well.
Their uncombed hair catches the sunlight
and creates a golden maze.
The saris, tucked at their waists
end four inches above the ground
reveal their bare feet and bony ankles.
Sunlight pierces the plastic pot
under the tap and I can see
the level of water rising inside.
Little girls in blue skirts and white blouses
are on there way to the school.
Their red ribbons sit like butterflies
on the white jasmine flirting at their necks.
Old men with walking sticks and thick glasses
are sitting under the panchayat tree.
Two young men, neem sticks in their mouth,
are cycling towards the village stream,
Little naked ones are playing in the street
some of them sucking on their dirty thumbs.
Five summers have passed since the last time
I sat on this veranda and watched a similar morning.

I hear her anklets behind me
and turn to look at her.
The towel is gone and
her hair is pulled back in a bun.
She looks younger.
I notice some unwashed turmeric
on her neck and reach out to wipe it,
she holds my hand and wipes it herself
and again brushes my hair
“Won’t you grow them?”
I smile my answer and reach for a hug
My hand brushes against the jasmine.
I watch as two flowers come loose
And fall next to her feet.
She shyly leaves the embrace, smiles
“Water is ready”.


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A fulfilled wish

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The morning breeze
A floating quill
A wish to touch
An outstretched arm
One failed attempt
On the toes
For the second
A moment’s pause
A gentle descent
The tender touch
A frozen second
A fulfilled wish.

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Hyetal Embrace

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Its half past twelve,
She locked the rickety door
And stepped out into the rain.
She pulled out her blue umbrella
And looked around for company.
Wet deserted roads.
She walked towards home
A score minutes away.
Every dark corner, every narrow alley,
Screamed at her through its silence.
Merciless night.
The shadow of the lamp post,
Falling on the wall stared at her.
The wind in the trees intimidating.
A looming song.
The drops on her umbrella,
And her shoes against the asphalt,
Break the gloomy silence.
Merciful escape.
The blood is rushing through her
Heart beating faster,
And knees weak.
She tried to distract her mind
From the clutches of the night,
Thinking of things
At home, awaiting her-
Hot-bath, steaming tea, a cozy bed.
She warmed herself
With these thoughts
And ignored the fringing fear.
Desperate pretence.
Her mind wandered a little more
To things missing at home
Someone to
Prepare the hot-bath
Share the steaming tea
Join her on the cozy bed.
Lately, days have been like this;
Just a mundane being.
Returning loneliness.
When was the last time she felt-
The rush in her blood?
The tug in her heart?
Knees weak?
Her steps slow down
Laden by these thoughts.
Sore memories
Now the night feels different-
It’s keeping her company
On these lonely roads,
And is warming her
With its black cloak.
The world has left them alone;
The night and her.
Mysterious lover.
It made her heart race
And her keens weak tonight.
She turned the last corner
And is glad to see her house
She reached for the door
And fiddled with the keys.
A gush of wind
Made her pause.
A hesitant minute.
She folded her umbrella,
Dropped her bag
Turned to look at the rain
And stepped back
Into the dark night.
Hyetal embrace.

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In the library

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I see him sitting
At the corner desk,
Reading a thick book, drowned.
He,Though in the corner,
Of my attention, is centre.
I have heard about him
From the other teachers;
Dedicated,
Smart,
And manners pleasing too.

I look at him, captivated.
A smile on his lips,
A glow in his eyes,
And on his face, contentment.
I wonder at his aura,
At his young age, marvel.
Son of a rich father, must be
And a doting mother too,
To be so at peace within
And with the world outside too.

He is writing something,
In his little red book,
As alone I stand, wondering.
He closes his book,
And packs his bag,
As towards him I walk, hesitating.
A crumpled page,
Slides off the desk, unnoticed
And to my feet, glides.
He turns around, unaware
And reaches for something behind.
I pick up the page, uncertain
On it written a single line,
Seven little words stare at me
‘To my Ma n Pa in heaven’.

A shiver runs through me,
As I stand there stunned
My myth about him broken.
I say a silent prayer
And turn to look at him, shaken.
He is walking away
Head held high,
The smile on his face touches.
The silence on me, heavy
Broken only by the echo
Caused by his crutches.

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Rumbling Rambling

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It’s a lazy Sunday morning,
I am awake but still in bed,
On my back watching the fan.

The flowers on my side-table,
Nodding in the fan’s breeze,
As if they approve of the lazy day.
The sunlight and the fan,
Throw flickering scenes on the wall,
It’s like watching a silent movie.

Looking at the blades go around
I remember the adage
About things coming around
I reflect it on my life
And think of all the things
That did come around.

I try to follow one blade,
The one with the dent,
As it goes and comes around,
But realize I can’t do it,
The fan is too fast and
It all gets jumbled up.

I have done it before, haven’t I?
Being stuck on one thing
Blind to everything else
Only to realize soon
I have created a mess
And I am actually nowhere.

I wonder what would happen
If a blade were to break
I think the fan would topple
And would go around no more
It would continue to hang there
But no one would look at it anymore.

What would be my three blades?
I ponder over it and it comes easy
Family, friends and the world
What if one of them breaks?
Will I continue to go around?
Will I continue to be?

The little bulge in the centre
Where the blades meet
Is a representation of the ‘I’
Giving it definition are three blades.
What would the bulge be without them?
What would I be without them?

It’s a lazy Sunday morning,
I am awake but still in bed,
On my back watching the fan,
On my back, watching myself.

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Could have been so much better...... I didn't seem to be satisfied at all.......kept editing.......but it kept dragging....hence decided to post it the way it is......

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There and Here

Morning Prayer, Backyard Streams, Singing Birds,
Flat Tyres, Crumpled Shirts, Crowded Buses.

Generous Rains, Yielding Cattle, Swell Wells,
Lean Accounts, Unpaid Loans, Mounting Bills.

Grandma’s food, Lazy Days, Smiling Children,
Unhealthy Diets, Busy Schedules, Ignored Families.

Delightful Huts, Wild Orchards, Fallen Mangoes,
Tiny Flats, Crowded Clubs, Fatal Drugs.

Happy Farmers, Timely Harvests, Festive times,
Nosy Bosses, Missed Deadlines, Boring Meetings.

Govt. Schools, Playful Children, Bedtime stories,
Heavy Bags, Empty Playgrounds, Tuition classes.

Bullock Carts, Soothing Shadows, Hair-Pin Bends,
Traffic Jams, Choking Pollution, Delayed Flights.

Afternoon Siestas, Coconut Water, Crimson Sunsets,
Sleepless Nights, Addictive Caffeine, Missing Horizons.


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Didn't come out the way i wanted,... still...

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