When the flowers of my garden
Gasp in the cruel hands of summer,
When dreams and desires
Start withering away in the heat,
When memories boil, I wait,
Like a rain bird searching for
A drop of water and life…
A Gentle kiss of north wind…
Then come the dreams… dry and red
To bleed my silent gentle sleep.
A spider trapping the ‘Questions
Of Gargi’ with its killing Net.
The abandoned finger of Ekalavya,
Children playing on a dry river ‘land’…
My love, the gentle breezes are gone…
Come and hug me, We’ll wait for the summer rains.