A dog runs wild, barking
at the mat-seller,
who never turned around.
Silence again; somewhere closer
Baby wails fill the air,
sooner it gets muffled ,
as the mother lulls her to sleep.
I see a group of black ants,
criss-cross their way to new home.
"It might rain today" i remember
My grandmother say distractedly
While she looked at ants, erstwhile.
I hear utensils singing in unison ,
orchestrated by loud whistle
from the cooker. The end note
of spluttering curry leaves in oil,
sounds like heaven.
The book lays still in my hands
as i lose myself to the
charms of the quiet afternoon.

- Harani B