This Monday morning wind,
December 4,
Raw and arrogant,
Aware of its power immense,
Walks like a mast elephant,
Rampaging everything,
Or, a youth in love,
Caressing everybody with its
Alpha hands,
Knocking things in the
Deserted hall, crowded
Living room,
Of a 2BHK suburban-Mumbai flat;
The cold breath of mild winter
Being carried
On its invisible wings,
How does it sweep the entire region!
This big-bosomed wind, knocking off the caps
And slipping inside the shirts and tinkling
Bare skins---
And whistling in pleasure,
A loud dulcet long moaning
Heard after very long in a
Working couple’s bedroom,
The whistling done by a
Smiling patient recovering
Slowly,
From a fatal disease,
Or---
Like an out-of-work guy,
Sitting/fretting at home for three
Bleak months,
And, suddenly getting hired today
On a long-distance call,
For a tiny office full of faded hopes,
In busy
Detroit,
Aarhus,
Delhi,
Or,
Jerusalem.
