Wednesday 9 March 2016



My little nest, empty and void,
Never bear any bud, the flora aside,
Silent, gloomy, the clock stands still
The canopy, why forgets to smile?

None remains to care as she did.
Echoes, ‘how are you my dear child?
Be careful, don’t do it, say sorry’
And the soothing words ‘don’t worry’.

No one to look through the window frames
To check whether any coconut falls,
Whether gate grills rust or not, then to talk
To passers-by, the village women-folk.

The great hands vanished which softly cut
And pealed ripe mangoes, sweet jack-fruit,
Sliced pineapples and plucked, more
Yellow guavas for me, forever.

The courtyard, vacuum, no footstep,
The plantains search for some new hope,
Seeks the gardener, the pomegranate
With fruits in orchard, its inmate!

From the depth of well, the water, why
Listens for a weak pulley  cry?
The ash covered dormant fire-place
Why waits for a fragment spark?

In the boundary walls, slowly,
Mosses or weeds may seen roughly,
Fallen yellow leaves may cover
The sand grains in yard as shower…

The eyes straightened all vague visions,
The ears heard all aching missions,
The immortal soul to console and soften
Disappear in eternity behind the curtain.

The noble platform never again opens
No splendid saga anymore there plays
Nothing can re-fill the emptiness ever
Except the breath of my precious mother.