Questions are my secret lovers.
They keep me on the top of my cosmic self.
The climax never comes, just eludes.
And there in lies the beauty of solitude.
Since a child one such wild,
Has always gnawed gently at the skin of my desire,
The red rosé, and its gentle sharp thorns
I see it, grandfather saw it,
What does kalu the dog see?
What does popatlal the parrot see?
What does Kaaliyaar the Black Buck see?
I dissected their brains,
Electron micros-coped the neurones,
Cat scanned them, consumed them
I could not see what they saw.
Then I saw some one else,
In the red rosé.
I wondered what she saw in the rosé?
It now hits me,
The question was right,
But it was a tricky little mite.
The be all and end all is not the Homo sapiens sapiens
In the scheme of light.
To know what kalubhai, popatlal, kaaliyarbhai see,
I have to be them,
The scalpel will not propel
Into knowledge that lies in the dimension
Beyond human dwell.
Notes:
In Saurashtra my place of birth animals too are suffixed when referred to kids as Bhai or Ben, Bhai stands for brother and Ben for sister. For records I am a law abiding citizen the kaaliyar is a protected species and I have never touched the animal but gazed at it in awe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem