December 20, 2013

The sky’s darkening
But sluggishly so
Like the sun is in no hurry
To leave this torrid town

On the tarmac streets of Ganjoni
Old houses two storeys high
Stand on either side
Painted in clean white
And tired cream
In places

They have narrow windows
Of glassy panes
And woody frames
All painted white
Like their flowery carved balconies

And telephone lines
From the houses
Tangle haphazardly
On one post
Then travel thin and black
Up above the sides
Of Ganjoni pavements

And crows high up
And faraway
From the rooftops
Circle the darkening air
Like they are casting a spell
On the town below

And I wonder
As I watch all this

Do refugees freeze such moments?

A humid evening
Such as this one
A feathery breeze on my bare arm
Standing here
Under this yellow light
With my cousin negotiating the price of fruit

The normal and somewhat ordinary
In the everyday

Are these not the things
We most crave
In dire times?

 featured image courtesy :


Journal: Oct.26.2020
Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura