Lady

 

A lady used to sit by the temple where I lived. The footpath was her residence, and a cloth bag her only possession. Occasionally, whenever I passed by, I used to give her some money. She was poor but never asked for it. I never saw her speaking to anyone nor anyone speaking to her. She would wash her face, and comb her hair neatly. And ate whatever anyone gave her to eat. After many years I shifted my residence and settled into a new area nearby. After couple of months I spotted her sitting on a footpath near where I lived. And for the first time she looked straight into my eyes and said - you never told me you shifted. - I was taken aback. I replied - I never knew you could speak- I saw her smile for the first time. I gave her some money as usual. But this time she said - give me little more please. I’m seeing you after so long. - I gave little more and walked back to my house. She put it the same cloth bag and settled on her new footpath.

The Wise

 

I would like to see no evil around

but alas! cannot close these eager eyes. 

And how could I ever be honour bound

for the truth that glitters is disguised lies. 

I have closed my ears to the evil sound

but the blares of the devil are so loud. 

I try to be deaf but their echoes hound,

and they are but the laments of the crowd. 

I wish no evil from my tongue should roll

for there is much to be said and cautioned. 

But my words lay silently in the soul,

and the ills roam unscathed, unquestioned. 

So blame me not in this life of disguise- 

help me decipher the wise from the vice. 

The Strength

 

To the poor grieving tongues her ear she lends. 

With an armour of spice and sweet to blend. 

A romantic soul and a vagabond-

she is my strength from the beginning to end. 

Threads

Rosy webs knitted the cloth-

adorned a colourful shine. 

But some parts holed by the moths

altered the fibered design. 

And then appeared a pattern 

that wasn’t what was in mind. 

The yarn that weaved was saddened

for the truth was hard to find. 

Need to tie up the loose threads

lest my half-stitched tales should spread.

The Little Beggar Girl

 

I was travelling to office by train. Couple of stations later a small girl of about 6-7 years of age, bit sleepy in her head, got in, and began begging for money or food. Few people gave, few continued dozing, few ignored, and few pretended to be asleep to avoid refusing the little girl. One guy who was standing at the entrance door, called her and asked her name, and then gave her a note of hundred rupees. The girl said thank you and went about resuming her begging. She was about to put it in her pocket when she noticed that it was a hundred rupee note. She was wide awake. But conscience didn’t allow her to pocket it immediately. She went back to that man and said - sir, you gave me hundred rupees. Hope it’s not a mistake. - the man just smiled and patted her head. Off she went  dancing and yelling to her mom who was begging in the next train compartment. - mom, I won a lottery. - mom looked at the man who had given her that money and smiled. 

One More Time

 

I dipped the paint-brush in my reverie.

And found our pictures in the gallery.

Colours that lit us whenever we blushed-

forever I have framed in memory. 

Chameleon

 

Chameleon hides in plain sight

for its prey hovers somewhere. 

And to survive others’ might

amusing colours it wears.

Like we who often take charge

of those who are presumed weak.

But as quick to camouflage

when the steps of success seek.

When in fear we disappear-

and incognito appear.