As evening comes I want to read
Of places, men, about their deeds
Some do take me to unknown lands
Stranger I am led by those hands
When every eve the red sun sets
I sit nearby to see it’s best.
Those rays are bright, still live, aglow
That upraised eyes but have to bow
Excited eyelids when do shut,
Then bright ,now dark ,becomes my hut
Well I don’t mind if I have to lose
Just when it sets , it wakes my muse
Just at this hour I see someone
Trodding the path of men among
His steps fear I, just next would break
Toppling him down without a shriek
But never thank Lord, does it happen that way
When each step breaks his cheeks turn grey
Perhaps it’s what their colour is
But to my eyes they dont look his
Those lucent eyes forever down
Upon the path that winds through town
That thin-piped nose does humble me
Those faded lips give no decree
That same old shirt ankle-length pants
Move up and down with every chant
Those stiff-boned hands with marrow lost
Are just enough to hold what matters most
He holds that disc-like wooden plate
Higher than his head, low than his state
The breaking, olden, narrow gait
Seems crumbled more of poverty’s weight
You cannot miss the softest shrill
Which loves to echo about these hills
Everytime ,his parched lips open and shut
Everytime, I hear” O! Coconut!”
Thick pieces of fruit he has arranged
Upon that tray which looks estranged
His chest so sunk, doesn’t hold a heart!?
Maybe it’s there, just fallen apart!?
Those gritty slippers sounding like hooves
Like an old horse tasked , to briskly move
Every time he steps on sand and stone
He surely remembers a place called home
That isn’t unlike this path that moves
Just that it has a fence and a roof
That blows away with every wind
That often smells of smoke and mint
The beady cup-like cap he wears
Like black in white eyes often stares
While the right hand holds the crescent nuts
The left arm pays for the right one’s guts
Like random curves of thirsty roots
His fingers twist at a world so brute!
All five apart afraid to touch
As if they ask- When ? How? How much?
This sight I see and he is gone
Behind autumn branches like curtains drawn
That head, then nuts, those legs, then feet
Shy slowly away from a blessed street.
Completed on 3.1.2016
Dunes & Dusk 