Anhad ka Baaja

The chittering of squirrels The chattering of children Heralds the guava season Both confident in Their ability to skitter away Before I am anywhere near When we planted The tree by the roadside It

I look out Of our bedroom window To see The elusive Shama On the guava tree Whistling its complex melody For me Collecting lemons I nearly trip over white jewels: Habenaria plantaginea is blooming

The performing monkey At the circus Watches its trainer's face For cues As it taps out the answer 2 + 3 What's 2 + 3, Jimmy? Tap tap tap tap Tap An imperceptible nod of the head Is enough For the

A memory from my schooldays Four decades ago and more Faded, but resurrected today Not content with listening On a transistor radio Hiding it under our desks From the eagle eyes of Father Netto

A green curtain Obscures the view From our front verandah Time to take The pruning shears To the creepers

Her feelings My words I just transmuted What she felt Into poetry Who is the producer? Who the middleman? Who is the creator? Who the midwife? Who is the poet? Who the alchemist? And he who