Riding flippant wings of
Time
As I flew three decades back
My world around was engulfed
Into the single-soldier barrack.
Under a general draped in a sari
And a vermillion bindi between the brows
With beads of sweat from daily chores
She wipes her face in anchal* free.
This act often rejuvenates
Her looks in sultry summer
Each time her glowing visage
Induces energy and reverence.
Over the growing years-
The bridled bonds has slacked
The general has became a friend
Look the octopus tires.
Mistake! She deliberately let it loose
The anchor grip in doorstep of youth
Not before steadying the sail
And refurbishing the keel.
"Let the waves thrash you dear
Let your soul burn the wrath of fear
But when you will be back to me
Come back as a man.
Baked in sun, whipped by wind
Be the stick of my porous bones
Be back as light of my misty eye
Through your window my world beckons.
When my stones inside will hurt
When dark blood ooze from my orifice
Then be by my side dear
And let me rest in peace."
( *Anchal is one end of an Indian sari, that dangles at the back
over the shoulder)
