Dilip Chitre Poems
Comments about Dilip Chitre
Father Returning Home
My father travels on the late evening train
Standing among silent commuters in the yellow light
Suburbs slide past his unseeing eyes
His shirt and pants are soggy and his black raincoat
Stained with mud and his bag stuffed with books
Is falling apart. His eyes dimmed by age
fade homeward through the humid monsoon night.
Now I can see him getting off the train
Like a word dropped from a long sentence.
He hurries across the length of the grey platform,
Crosses the railway line, enters the lane,
His chappals are sticky with mud, but he hurries onward.
Through her blood's lightly layered
Lightning flashes out branches of my being
When, through intoxicated wet leaves,
The sudden stirring that's the month of Ashadha
Passes tenderly like a slight shiver.
And there remains
Of the trees, among the trees, for the trees: