Shadow
My mother used to
Work in an office –
She only used to make
rice and dal –
Everyday.
Whenever I came
Home from school,
For lunch
I used to see
A shadow
in the kitchen –
A black shadow
Like the torn purse
of my mother –
My mother
doesn’t go to work
now –
She’s retired.
She is old.
But still
after all these years
she eats
the same rice and dal,
that is not
cooked by her anymore
But brought from
the curry points –
Even now,
the same shadow
of lovelessness
still lingers
in the house
Like the face
Like the photo
Of a loved one
That she hid
In her age old
Torn, black purse
Of her heart!
As We Get Old
these days, we don’t say much to each other, perhaps a word or two, that too through a message –
like, “have you reached?” like, “did you have lunch?” Or like “did you start?” Or “It’s late, where are you?” Or it could be a simple “hi” or “come soon” or “am waiting” or sometimes it could be just these three dots … (you know, they are the musical notes of time, of the past present and the future) –
these days we don’t say much to each other –
I know that we are getting old
and such that we have finally found a way to reach the fragrance that lies beyond the words and the sounds: a silence that shines through, like the warm sunlight on a misty morning
and such that, after all these years of living together, we have learnt this art of love, this art of being, this art of dying by listening to the muted songs of our longing hearts –
Your Smile
you look so good when you smile; I remember
those moonlit winter nights –
it is not that they resemble you, but
it is just that I like them a lot! oh, I know
I do know that these
are all metaphors, words upon words
and such that they cannot replace your touch!
tell me, which word or
meaning could convey an infant’s hand
searching for its mother? tell me, tell me now
which language could translate the sleep,
the perfume of that dream,
the floating crescent moon on the lips
& the grip of the tender fist that is warmly
cuddled in your heart?
*
you look so good when you smile; blazing like
a bonfire, sprinkling
sparks of fire! O then, dear girl of mine,
what better revolution could there be than
you – breaking all the
shackles – laughing in these dark times?
