Let us make bricks to an understanding,
From the foot slush of the ten year olds
In Peru or Odissa, not one with an i-pad.
Bricks are so much like the sleek i-pads
Gleaming in yellow buses, in school bag
On backs weighed down by knowledge.
The brick muck feels soft on child’s feet
Ankle -deep , in the mother earth’s love.
You gain an insight of walkers.
They shut up their hind sights,
By headphones of heavy metal.
They do not follow a sea beside.
The sea hides endless hindsight
Stored away at the back of sky.
It is repository of all hindsight.
Look away and muffle its hum.
Hear the walker’s headphones,
The music dribbling from them.
As we are talking, train passes
Leaving our talk, inconclusive
To begin all over for the train
To pass again, like in movies.
The train is stuck in quagmire
Of indecision of previous talk
Concluded within no context,
So we forget where we ended.
Train hangs unlike in movies
A train with no past reference,
The half formed question mark
A memoir outside our context.
We have lost tree by balcony,
For a view of milkman below.
However we made our house,
We would lose our mountain.
We would lose sun in its tree
To empty sky, blue and high.
( referring to A.E.Housman’s beautiful poem Give me my land of boughs in leaf…)
Our senses cry like ignorant crickets
In raining dark with many new frogs
Raising throats to night in orchestra.
Our faces are duly contorted in love
Like exaggerated gestures of dancer.
But in the end they sound as if of air
Like breeze rustling in yellow leaves
Dealing with a dead past of the trees.
chimes remind a breeze that comes
from far off seas,through the fields
houses , cows,women, sleeping dogs
truck drivers,falling asteroid pieces.
chimes toll anonymous church bells
in a common destiny that connects
houses, cows, women, sleeping dogs
truck drivers etc. to the dusty earth.
On Diwali we make balls of stones in sulfur
To bang city walls for their loudest echoes
And cut tiny holes in star smiles on posters.
We make big noises on the moonless night.
The birds will shut their ears in mango tree
And not even a flutter is heard in its leaves.