ONCE UPON A SUMMER...

:To Sradha:

the small tea-point and stores nearby the libraray-lawns was filling with people. the sun was again close to the edge of the clouds, and one half of the sky was bright blue. a black couple got out of the shop, with a carry bag stuffed with little nothings, and went striding efficiently away. the young male indonesian who just squeezed out of the library doors stopped, thought for a while, looked puzzled and went back to the library. the two elderly ladies, clerks possibly, sat on, though their coffee cups, empty now, toppled in the late afternoon wind and their paper plates flew down to the lawn.

the dog lay with its chin on the grass and watched an ant hurrying within inches of him.

the baby sparrow that was strutting around came nearer to us and craned its neck to give her a 'hello-how-do-you-do' look.

'look, it's coming our way,' she said, full of tenderness. 'it's a baby.'

'how do you know?'

'can't you see it is?'

'they all look alike to me.'

she said nothing, but began pushing herself inch by inch slowly nearer and nearer towards it so that it would be intersted but not frightened.

the bird was hopping in an experimental way, now. it fluttered cheekily towards her one moment and chirped away the other.

her face was so intent and lit up. moist but warm puffs of wind lifted the curls off her neck and dropped them back. her eyes were closely stuck on the little hopping body on the ground. she would never know that her lips made a curious parting to smile but went together again in caution lest the bird know her joy and power-over her in the game.

suddenly she turned towards me, as if my eyes touched her out of their frolic. the sparrow flew away, the charm that tied it willingly broke.

for the first time since we sat down that afternoon, i broke outside my selfish prisons, and really saw her: the skewed sunlight drenching half her face.

and i saw her not only as she was now, but at some dream-slip second in my past and at the throbbing power-hours of the future. as a feathery promise of light and air, a memory that was ... a thousand memories that shall be...

'it's a nice little bird', i said, and she smiled full at me.

'oh it's so wonderful,' she said, vibrant with pleasure. 'i love this place. i love ...'

And indeed the sun had come out, filling the green garden with summer, making people's faces shine and smile.

Whenever She Kisses Me

Whenever she kisses me –

I keep my eyes steadfastly shut:

Lest the confused dendrons wince

At her slowly perching face,

Knowing all the way, it is

The same as one who long since died.

NOSTALGIA

The dust swept over the harvested field putting it to a dull sleep

And withdrew with the wind into a scraggly bush.

I was very happy as a child –

Far away from this baking Sun.

In the evenings, I used to swing on the hanging bunyan roots

Till dusk perched coolly on my shoulders.

Anesthetic coolness

of the plateau-evening.

I remember how in the evenings

we wore the rain all the way home from school,

Mouth and eyes gaping open, running against the striking rainthreads,

My vision always smarted till late night in monsoons.

The dead-snake road winds ahead,

Beyond the sparsely leaved trees.

It felt good to fall in love back at my place.

I remember how she fluttered and then shut her eyes

as our faces started to blur in an intense proximity.

It’s dusk in the head.

I listen to the dizzy procession of waves

In a sea that I haven’t seen now for years.

I wasn’t looking till the rain smuggled back in its entirety

All the ghosts to my hostel walls, in spreading water-blotches.

I sleep with naked nightmares

Breeding in miraculous fuss

Maggot-like memories

That crawl up to my windows,

Tap, sigh and wait for a reply.

I am tired.

Oh, to think

The silliest illusion

Is the hardest to lose.