Page 28 - silent_secret

DESOLATION

There isn't much pain
Even then.
The white washed walls grow anaemic
I cause of electric light.
At the most' a lizard will be creeping
On the wall.
In a ray of doubt its shadow moves
Sadly.
From where of I know not, the wayward breeze
drags a cine song.

And then it drops the burden of the song in air,
goes out brooming its
Clumsy hair.
Now and ever I mix the last couplet,
Getting it by heart, in my agony.
The cock says, ·
It's getting dawn ..
Getting dawn! Wake you up!
Then old folk pray numbly
Hare! Ram! Ram Ram Hare Hate!
The decoction of my memories
Of that ~weet Radio Pakistan Nurjahan
Settles down in my heart.
The Terylene Shirt hooked to the wall
Moves its hands slowly.
It carries an erotic Night Queen scent.
It is of no use you see!
It smells itself.
An ant, on the blac~ oily floor
starts on its pilgrimage to Kashi.
Here is a scene of
The mind on its death bed.
The erotic shirt is all alone.