POEM: The flower girl

Ranganatha Sitaram

There he stood 

On his balcony

In the early sunshine,

Just out of bed, 

Wiping from his eyes 

The cobwebs

Of unrelenting dreams 

From last night´s 

Deep slumber.

.

The air was fresh 

With the fragrance of flowers

The florists had heaped 

In bamboo baskets,

For the pious pilgrims, 

Barefoot in flapping 

White Dhotis and Sarees, 

Hurrying to the big temple

At the end of the street.

.

The birds from nearby 

Banyan and Pipal trees

Were all aflutter and chirpy.

The bicycles with their

Strident bells ringing,

Were weaving their way 

Amidst sputtering rickshaws 

Muttering under their

 Kerosene-spewing breaths.

.

Sauntering cows splattered

The streets with steaming

Gobar as they walked, and

Lowered themselves by the roadside.

A scrawny mongrel

Leapt out of the burrows 

And danced across the street

Skillfully missing bike-wheels.

.

It was yet another day 

In the temple-town down south.

Prime of youth

And brimming with hope,

Fresh to life’s offerings

And inquisitive to boot.

Standing on the balcony 

Inhaling the morn, he caught sight 

Of the flower girl

Stringing a garland together with 

Swift moves of her deft fingers.

.

As she worked, she chatted, 

laughed and gesticulated

At her florist friend.

He watched her with interest and

Waited to see her down-turned face.

Suddenly she looked up and

Searched in his direction,

And beamed a beatific smile.

He was awestruck!

.

Henceforth, he stood on the balcony

Everyday to seek the perfunctory smile.

.

He mustered enough courage one day,

Dressed in white pants and shirt,

To approach the girl 

With the beatific smile. 

He asked for an arm-length 

Of  her best jasmine garland.

She lifted up her head and smiled,

But looked at him 

With unseeing eyes!

.

Many days passed,

The blind girl, 

With boy on her side 

Came down the balcony steps, 

And paused at her giggly friend

To buy some jasmine flowers

Before walking to the big temple

At the end of the street.

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