We looked for her in a revived memory
In the greenness of the memorial forest.
A young mango tree flourishes for her
In the vast dome of the academy’s sky.
...
When your eyes go astray and balled
No thumping on the chest revives music
Distant listening and hair in a close mat
An electric shock here, needle piercing there
...
The night's wakefulness came across the starlit sky
Over the dark cluster of mangoes and the court wall
With loud cymbals and scraps of movie songs
After lanterns started flickering with halos of moths.
...
A nerd bitten by the charity bug,
Spoke of slum children’s education
And shining darkness in their eyes.
In the shanties, the water flows
...
This season our backyard coconuts
Hid it under their swinging fronds
Behind our asbestos-sheeted shack,
Its presence marked by the pale shadow
...
Right now, in the room next, she seems to say something
At times as I lift my eyelids she appears in vision's periphery
As an incandescent presence in the diaphanous daylight.
At midnight I see a tiny lip movement as the train hoots
...
On the river bed three holy rivers meet
Two of them are in the minds of people
The third is a streak of undammed water
The holy men and shop people celebrate
...
My figures are shadowy, squatting
On the river bank with halos intact.
They lost their identity, however
In the prevailing spatial situation.
...
My spectacles are on the corner table;
There lay fine muslins and stitched textiles
Woven with delicate patterns, their craftsmen
Lived in mud-houses and their eyes failed
...
On the mother’s knee, you got slapped
With alternate palms, warm with coal-fire.
Then the cradle went up by the mother's hand
You closed eyes to the world beyond cloth
...