On the holy day of Vijaya Dashami*
After my ablutionary ceremony
And my obeisance to the Durga Deity*
Out into the open under a cloudy sky
...
I
When the weather is cold,
we yearn for warmer climes.
...
Clouds are sometimes large, wide, dark and dense
We can’t see the sun e’en with a lens
Still it’s only just a passing phase
So we should never be in a daze
...
Oh, yonder where, ah, my angel virgin!
The seed of my romantic origin.
Why the lesser lime cordiale and gin
When I’ve your jars of ambrosial fountain?
...
love thy neighbour
as thyself – he gave him alms
daily
after ten years
...
a lone plant
sprang up
in the asphalt maze
they did away with
...
shrinking chills -
my drowsy eyes don’t open;
doors refuse to close
...
[Holi is a vernal festival of colours in India, and this poem was written on the Holi eve on Tuesday, March 10,2009]
Up above the sky…
The Tuesday Moon looked a bit wan
...
Dead mother’s sons
In the forecourt of their dwelling
Porched over with a big multi-coloured tent
And with an assortment of occupied chairs
...