Backhome

It rained for quite sometime before I took the road. The wet road and the earth smells so sweet. The moist occasional breeze touch me all over frequently. It seems to tell me to be with it and feel it. The lofty mountains seem alive with their lush greenery. The spirit of the forest rejuvenates me again like it did always. The road I am on seems to lead me to everywhere from where I stand right now. The Laburnum trees that line the road have bejeweled themselves with clusters of intoxicating yellow blossoms. They will soon give way to long slender pods where birds of all kinds will come flocking around. The Gulmohar trees are also rich with their clusters of red flowers. They are simply irresistible.
During the night, the Temple tree (Plumeria Rubra) that are seen in profusion spread their sweet fragrance all around. It's sweetness seems intensified by the rain droplets. Then I come across a heap of pale white blossoms fallen on the ground. The aura around the tree is mesmerizing. They say it's a "Raat-ki-rani". The tree flowers tiny white blooms that are so redolent that moth and different kinds of insects fleet around it even during the night. Its redolence spreads far and wide. I can sense it till I reach home, till I ascend my bed and till I close my eyes peacefully. But I simply can't seem to fall asleep.

The Way Uphill

The drongos glid past me,
The forked-tails a-twinkle,
The rooster head shone,
The velvet feathers unwrinkle.

The mountain path twisted solely,
Up amidst the Orange blooms,
Smelling heart-throbbing sweet,
My soul still there looms.

In The Heights Of Delhi Heat

When I am stuck in the traffic,with the freaky hot sun burning the noon up,the unbearably hot winds just make it impossible to breathe. I curse the heat like everyone else. I reach my room. Still hot. The bed is hot, the table is hot, my clothes in the cupboard are hot...oh my God!!!! what the hell is this. I lie on my hot bed looking up. The lizard on the wall is also wriggling around. Maybe it's cursing the heat to. I presume.
But then suddenly I recall the skinny infant that was just lying out on the pavement under a rickety umbrella that's almost torn up. I could count almost all his ribs and see him shudder in the heat. Her mother is a labourer. She is laying the bricks out on the pavement with a shovel on her hand. She is burnt black in the pitiless sun. How are they managing out there,the infant specially? Am I not far better off than them?
My complaining mind suddenly calms down and I find my room extremely comfortable. The bed, the mattress,the clothes, everything seems to have cooled down. I lie on the bed with utmost comfort under the fan and fall asleep. And I forget the frail infant and her mother.

Delhi Days

The Country's capital. It really stands upto its name. "Dil waalon ki dilli",they say. You have to have the 'heart' to survive here amidst the overflowing outcry of abuses and ruffianly attitude of the commoners. You either become one of them or you get alienated. So you become one of them finally. You speak a sentence of five words where three of them would be 'Gaalis' or abuses. Following are a few excerpts from 'cool' delhi life,
A young man climbs up the bus with his younger brother of about 10 years.
An acquaintance," Kahan jaa rahe ho yaar Chotu ko leke?"
Young man," Arey yaar, is behenchod ka school admission karana hai."

A mother with her son of about 8 years walks down the pavement along Connaught Place. A man accidentally bumps into them. He utters a few words of apology and leaves.
Mother to her son," Behenchod bol, behenchod bol usko."

Wow, Moms and bros are imparting excellent values to the kids. Survival of the fittest?