THE ASHOKA GROVE Poem by Dileep Jhaveri

We fixed the wall
when Seema was born.

There's a calendar, a poster
with a deadly Terminator of a movie hero
and two embroidered hares or so

When Sameer was born
we put in a glass window

A torn bed sheet that served as a curtain,
the tinkling sound from the paanwallah's shop
and late into the night, the light
of the street lamp settling down
and refusing to leave

The third time in the month
A miscarriage

The scattered debris
of unrecognisable household things.
Rags, tatters, bricks, bamboos,
the mirror, soot,
cinders smouldering in a ditch.

The tin sheets of the roof
were rotten.

The same old sky.