The Messenger Poem by Satish Pendharkar

In this forest we were
The half-a-dozen vixens
As we labeled ourselves
In a circle seated
Holding one another's hands
Swaying left, then right
Some yodeling, some whistling
Serenading hidden wood-sprites
At times bursting onto birdsong
Till I played spoilsport
To answer a phone call
Defying a dour diktat:
Cell phones (as also children)
Be left behind at home

I now see them
Susan's shuffling the cards
Tina's head lolls on Fatima's
Left shoulder; taking in
Laughter, chatter and breeze
Mary (the munchkin among us)
Munches marmaladed toast
Radha laughs full-throated
Then stops on seeing me
Shouting, "Zarine, join us…
Switch off that…What the hell! "
I look past her; Disappointment
Momentarily clouds her till
Dissipated by a gusty laugh

It was ladies first
And so we vixens arrived
Early; wanting time for us
To do as we pleased:
Excoriate a common enemy
Disturb a humming hive
Or chase butterflies
We had instructed the men
To start late; leaving
No vice untouched
So as to arrive satiated
Not the usual grumpy oafs
Cadging cigarettes…

Only Radha I do now see
Have the others disappeared?
Her laugh shakes the trees
I approach her, shaking
Cursing myself and cell phone
Searching for words
Rehearsing appropriate faces
How should I break
News of the mishap?
Her husband now but a candle
Whose flame's been snuffed out
The spouses of the rest
Lying on hospital-beds
Yet mercifully breathing.