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.
—-***—-
