The girl in a dirty frock –
she sells parched peanuts
for coins and eye-pricks.
‘Peanuts’, ‘Peanuts’ – her
withered call haunts
her parents in the grave.
Her pale figure walks away
with Time Teacher.
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Years slip into the chasm of past
leaving behind the doldrums on her
countenance. Time partitions her
basement – mongooses, bandicoots
and rats get their shares – holes and
chinks. Now her dreams with streaks
of love have shrunk like her womb.
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Waiting In Vain
It’s a voluntary widowhood.
Whipped by Neeli’s tongue,
he’s gone to harvest Dirhams*
in Dubai desert – lest the embryo
of their new home won’t grow up.
She’s alone in a temporary shed
behind the basement on the bank.
Indian Postman passes by like her
days flashing ‘No’ with his fingers.
She looks into the distant desert
through the window of nostalgia.
Fear creeps on the walls of her
heart at night - even a Norway rat
becomes a ghost rattling in kitchen.