A Blue Chalk Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR

Satyanarayan Samui now a shadow-boy;
He was a jubilant boy of blood and flesh
Nearly 43 years ago.

We scuffled over a blue chalk;
Thereafter I was not on speaking term with him;
After summer vacation he never attended school.
He was translated into blue bird...

Just by the window of my bed-room
Standing a seven-leaf tree
Extending its branches
Transmits a massage of friendship;
At some pitch-black night
Stricken by rain-storm and thunder,
A bird made of blue light
Alights on a branch of that tree;
Keeps looking at me blankly...

Is it Satyanarayan?
Still searching for that blue chalk?