much has changed
these past few years.
Time and again you remind me
how distant I’ve turned out to be
We once dreamt of sitting
By the river Thames
discussing the futility of life.
Those plans of walking down Mount Fuji
On a Sakura season
glimmering with cherry blossom
embracing the absurdities of life
No matter how distorted it maybe.
You now complain
About the way I view my life,
Gathering facts and being rational.
I still remember that night
I wrote you that poem
"Rationality walking miles behind".
I felt so accused and embittered
That you so casually told me
ive changed and my choices refined.
I have become
More like the amaltas
Of the scorching Delhi,
Blooming at a 45degree temperature
Yet not able to leave the spectators
With a sigh of relief.
Soon these amaltas will wither off
And perish in the coming time
Like all living things
For, autumn will seep in
And winter shall follow up.
You see June,
The cycle of life has taken its toll on me
I’ve got early morning chores to catch up
Followed by a routine check up
Of Suri, my miserable little kitten.
These days I lay on my bed
Immersed in folklores of my town
I think about the lovely union
Of our majestic river
Teesta and Rangit.
Embracing each other at Triveni
And flowing together towards the Bay of Bengal
After a tumultuous wreck of separation.
It provides me a certain solace
To sing the song of mighty Kanchenjunga,
Being able to wake up early morning
Glancing at the majestic cotton clouds
shoving its way through my bedroom window.
But how can I explain it to you?
The emptiness, the longing, the familiar
faces,
The rants of my neighbour,
The crystal clarity of these mountains,
And my local cabbie guy ‘kancha’
Standing at my doorway
Grinning with his beetle stained teeth.
Ready to be at our service.
You still dream of big cities and glass hallways
And visit home once or twice a year.
However, I want to live with my town-girls
And be like your mothers friends
Who sit for hours at the local tea shop.
And juggle errands like life is
A brewing pot of coffee
Happily offered to
passerby.
Every time you come home June,
I want to welcome you with my arms wide open,
Bring you your favourite cookies
Listening to your tales of adventure
and never ever envy you.
I met your father the other day,
He always misses your presence
I also met your mother the other day,
She misses having you around
Longing for you to take over
That hard toiled business set up
She has it over a decade.
While you,
You still want to stay there
Writing that novel of yours;
Which no one will ever read.
At times,
I feel extremely lonely
Because people say things;
That the town has nothing to offer
And how a change of setting can renew one’s life.
At times like these,
I call upon our local cabbie guy ‘kancha ‘
And sit in his cab with the fellow co-passengers -
Listening to the parables of love
And struggles of our home folks.
They never fail to put a smile on my face
At times like these,
I feel so invigorated
they always have new things to say.
I visit my ailing grandfather
And listen to his tales of the early times .
Looking at my grandma’s hand spun straw shoes
Grandpa proudly tells me
How my late grandma in those times
Was the first woman
To take matters to a local panchayat body
In order to fight for her right.
My grandfather has become the
philosopher friend of my life
Unknowingly filling the void
Of my escalating heart many times.
Especially, When I think of myself more
Than the world around me.
Last Saturday ,
I took a merry go round
To the local tourist viewpoint
And watched in silence
As the guide vociferously talked about the British Raj.
Of the 1940’s and the repercussions
Faced by my townsfolk
It reminded me of what my grandmother once told me -
“back then, locals carried British man on their back”,
I suddenly remembered
“Our backs tell stories no books have the spine to carry”.
My dear June,
I have driven miles and miles
And there are miles and miles to go
Before I sleep.
Now if you excuse me for a moment,
I have to go and fix the constant rattle
Of the adjoining door.
