Just A Peep

 

As I peep out' the window
A network of cables assualts my eyes
A lamp post stands erect almost arrogant
Next to it is an old Neem tree
Elegantly stooping as its branches
Strong and brown spread heaven ward
Covered with thick bushy foliage
The leaves kissing the cables
And almost caressing the lamp
A bunch of squirrels scamper around
A few run on the cable in a smooth glide
One atop the street lamp
While the rest dance on the sturdy branches
I stand and watch
God's creation and human invention
Residing side by side
As the tiny fur balls romp over and around

My Window Pane

My window pane deceives me
The droplets that trickle down
Its slippery countenance
Are not tears

Those are God's blessings
To a parched heart

Sitting By The Window

Dawn tiptoes stealthily
Towards my window
The dark silhouettes
Enlighten slowly
In the purity of light
A car washer cleaning cars
A milkman cycling past
With clanging containers of milk
I too have to take to the sleepy roads
As my pet Mr. Snow Boot nudges me
With soft growls
The day's begun
No more sitting by the window...

 

Glorious morn seeps in unstoppably
Under a glowering sun
The street lights burn

With a weak zeal
The usual noises of work
The honking of horns
The busy strides of passers by....

As the afternoon draws close
Shadows of the trees lengthen
On my veranda
A pale good bye ensues
Its the parting time...
 

The sun tilts westward
Leaving behind a trail
Of riotous red, purple, soft pink

Orange mixed with black and blue
A wistful end to day's delight...

The night comes in with bold steps
Sprinkling a few stars on the way
A doting moon with a motherly smile
The neons and the sparkles of the sky
Vie with each other
For supremacy...

Tomorrow at predawn
I shall again sit by the window
To witness the interplay
Of darkness and splendour...

Till then...



 

The Unseen

The silence of the night

The droplets of rain

Dripping from the leaves

The moon feels shy

Hides behind a cloud

A dog whines somewhere

At the end of the alley

A car passes by

Its headlights throwing

A weak patch of light

On the pitch dark roads

Long way to go till

The arrival of dawn

I sit in my lawn

Encircling a white bungalow

Now stilled in slumber

Everyone's gone to bed

Only I am alone, awake

A drape on a window

Shivers in the soft breeze

And an owl wails

Plaintively on the old, Peepal tree

I clutch the white shawl

And let my mane slide down

My fragile boned back

A song comes to mind

Heard ages ago

I hum with a smile

A bleak light burns

In the hut further down

By the running stream

I tread thither along

Somebody passes by

An old hunched man

Stooped on a stick

Chanting the holy name

I swoosh by like the

Flowing, whispering wind

On invisible wings

Leaving a thin trace

Of mist behind

A swish of silk

And the holy chant

Echo in the green

 

Valley beyond...

The Window

 

 

 

She said “You know you are good at it!

Its long you haven’t written those words

In a row of rhythmic meters”

I blushed & replied,“ Poet’s block, you see?”

“Oh! Just look out ‘the window

Inspiration galore.” Said she

I looked up from the sheaf of papers

Stacks of files lay askew on the table

The plasma screen blinked twice

Some virus…obscure, deadly
A few plastic folders lay hither and thither
Holding a Proposal or two for life
“Harbingers of change”, they said,
“Once implemented, systemic corruption

Would sooner than not fade away…”

I sighed, the pain in my neck

Was again giving trouble

“Cervical”, the doc said,

“Was a lifestyle disease”

I smiled, “Nowadays, medical terms

Did boast of aesthetic ease.”

Shrugging off my sedentary thoughts

I neared the wooden cabinet

Bulging to bursting point

There was hardly any space

Neither on the shelves nor in the room

Shared by two

The door shutting us off

From the rest

A caged existence none the less

Could have been the cause of asphyxiation

But for the AC angled cleverly

To pacify jarred nerves

As stale breath mingled in the air
And she said “Look out ‘the window”

The phone rang…

 A staccato of urgency
My boss
As static as the wooden boards of my cabin
Sometimes I was at a loss
How well he was in sync
With the colorlessness
Around
Secured in his high-backed chair
Not so secured perhaps…
He always left me acutely aware
Of my clumsiness, my lack of everything

I shook myself out of reverie

At times things get so awry
Oh! She said, “Look out ‘the window”
Remember?

If only…