To Readers,

You come back to pick pieces I've left. You adore it, find meaning in it, love it and somedays just be there. But what touches me the most is your returning after every sunset.

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सकरी क्यारियाँ और सरसों के खेत — % &

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He was sitting on someone's house steps because I saw a man leave him there. All alone in morning; a child of barely five sitting there with his lost eyes. I wanted to shout he should not be left alone but no one heard.

I have never seen someone with eyes which never demand. They move past water filled fields, past bikes and trucks and slow down when they catch wildness. I wanted to run and hug him and talk about legos, crayons and elephants. I wanted to talk to him but I couldn't. His bus was late. Mine was running past him, past buzzing green trees, past curvy roads with potholes, past the shade of red and white and maroon painted houses.

I kept thinking about his eyes. No one will ask him in future how he zeroed down everything to nothing. No one asked him today. He sat there with his heavy eyes.

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Here comes the smile
stretched like a rope
tied on two poles

specks of gold dust
swim in eyes
round and round and round

as a child steps in a bus
for the first time,
he spots his hens, and goats
in bigger, bigger size.

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A day

writing and
pondering over
what to write and leave
(Caption)

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Night, doesn't it
hum the loudest when you are alone?

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Your eyes. Believe me. They are lighter shade of brown. Like a dollop of honey dropped in a bowl of warm water. They caress from far.

//Caption

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