A rock in the lake that had shadows
Dancing about and deeply involved,
Now declares unnamed boy smitten
By an arrow through heart for a girl
Deeply involved in toothy burghers
Fresh from country oven and a cola
Frothing at mouth on phony fingers.
The scene has water bottles loosely
Anchored to it, by the passing wind.
It seems love is in the air and water.
We would mix sulphur and coal for days
And let it dry on string cot in a warm sun.
We stuffed mixture in newspaper cones.
Lighted cones hissed like snakes in a sky
Only to dive some times to waiting straw
On sleeping houses, recently laid to roof.
We made cloth balls of stones in sulphur
To bang on decrepit walls for a loudness.
We made holes in star smiles on posters.
We made such sound in moonless night
That birds shut their ears in mango tree
With not a single flutter heard in leaves.
We thank you for what you did not do.
We have become wiser and lovelier.
You did not rape women in kitchen ,
Only discovered dead cows in fridge.
Dad might have eaten a cow or two
And is lying dreaming of his heaven.
The cows on their part thank butcher
Dreaming heaven with plenty of cud.
Our God and yours walk arm in arm.
We thank them for a new bon homie.
In the midst of our presidential confusion
We may mention his passing of yesterday
Lecturing a bunch of north and east kids
(Add west ,south to make a passing news)
His lion’s mane would wave significantly
To the management kids on wings of fire.
A fire shall now bury president of all time.
An old paper boy had aimed upper story
With news missile to reach morning cup.
Later he made missiles for the high skies.
His targets are always on time , in space.
(India’s most illustrious President and missile scientist Dr.Abdul Kalam passed yesterday at the age of 83)
All we wanted was continue to live
Our lives all of a piece within brick,
As history carefully buried in tome.
This morning temples broke peace
And Gods shut eyes to their falling.
These bricks no longer hold homes
Only life’s pieces left to dry in sun.
(A severe earthquake in Nepal caused massive devastation and loss of life on 26th April,2015)
The farmers have joined a rally,
Crying slogans in urban lawns,
Upside down, from neem trees.
They hang in a passing breeze.
They hang like fruits and drop,
When breeze becomes a wind.
Neem flowers have just turned
This season to fruity succulence.
Like every year they are bitter.
(A farmer from Rajasthan, Gajendra Singh, hung himself from a tree at the Aam Aadmi Party’s (AAP’s) anti-land bill rally at Jantar Mantar(New Delhi) on Wednesday)
Looking at lists of things in their aura,
The ordinary man turns common man
In checked shirt , unkempt moustache
Like a neighbor’s cat, on long whiskers
That are less than any ordinary things.
The common man had been dipping
In our blue mornings of bleary eyes
With our milk sachets ,outside door.
Lately he is seen missing from porch.
(R.K.Laxman(92) the creator of the Common Man in a daily cartoon in our newspaper passed this week)