The day sizzled as though
The Gods were angry
In the evening the sky opened
In electric anger hurling
Torrents of water through
Our hotel room windows
The windows were fragile
And too full of gaping holes
Alone, in the hotel room,
I thought a thousand things-
The day's inane images
An old heritage building
Overrun with wild vegetation
Phantoms rising from the ruins
The air was heavy with events
I heard the Kauravas’ war cries
Ferreting out Pandavas in exile
From their secret existence
Then a trigonometrical puzzle
On the hill everything appeared,
Standing on the edge of time,
As though one looked at a slice
Of life of what it was like then
Soon sleep came in waves
Demolishing the hotel walls and
My flesh-and-blood existence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem