A Song 128

Sadaphule and jaswanthi.




Scraping an unsalooned head,
Tuka said: Satyam vadishyay;
Gamchaing raw chins
Kabira said: Which satyam?
Screams tilled
Arabian Sea,
Marine Drive,
morning strollers.
Told the day,
want to die;
Told the night,
want to die;
No reply.
Told the day,
want to live;
Told the night,
want to live.
No replies
to dohas and abhangs.
We were facts.
We are fiction.
They never came across:
A skinless Alphonso,
a peel-less banana,
sadaphules without flowers,
Mahabharat minus Bhishma,
Wars absent in Gita,
Pyres unescorted in Benares.
Familiar with
diyas without wicks,
candles without burns,
blown out
by Arabian Sea winds on the Drive.