In the rhythmic breaths synced to
the low resonance chants of Om,
Mother sits in a meditative trance,
eyes closed; lotus pose.
Outside, the soft gurgling flow
of river Seeta, beckons to infinity.
I lean from the balcony, it’s a holiday…
Scamper to the empty swing in the garden
And swing to my heart’s content,
Gazing at the sky – faster, longer, higher!
The singing bard approaches,
and walks past, rapt in divinity.
The peanut vendor shouts in various notes,
Incomprehensibly, grass basket on his head,
Peanuts, boiled grams, onions, coconut, tomatoes
Salts, mustard oil, chillies, ten tin tumblers,
Add the tangy sweet sauce, I tell him,
So scrumptious, “jhaal mudhi”, a paper cone full!
I sing in my choir, in white uniform,
Principal plays the accordion.
I rush to catch the yellow bus,
College exams, my two plaited friend waits for me.
At the hospital bed, doctor bends over me
And whispers “now open your eyes”
Clouded memories,
past and present,
Midzalom wears off!
Jhal Mudhi, is a street snack in eastern India; Jhal means spicy, Mudhi means puffed rice.
0 Comments