2nd March, 2022
The morning held
some more magic.
A labrador and an alsatian
at the cricket pitch
Catching practice.
7th March
Eye Contact
The white pigeon
Perched outside
the guest room window
Flutters nervously
As it sees me
Looking at it,
(Yes, we make eye contact
Through the glass)
And is ready to take off.
Until I go about my business
And it settles down again.
I remember holding
my infant granddaughter
Some years ago,
As she drank milk
From her feeding bottle,
Looking at me with big round eyes
But no longer sucking
(And crying too)
the minute I looked at her.
Strange creatures,
Birds and babies.
12th March
The utter stupidity
Of looking, in vain,
for a rich blue
Kanjeevaram saree
In your cupboard
All winter,
And realizing, today,
That it had always been
Hanging there
With the maroon palla
On the outer, visible side!
14th March
My printer hadn't been
taking up paper to print on :
much coercion, persuasion, even smacks
had to be used, single sheet by single sheet,
for the past couple of years.
frustrating in the extreme.
Yesterday, it just refused
to swallow even a single sheet of paper.
Nothing worked, none of my usual bag of tricks.
We thought of replacing it,
scroogy me wanting the ink cartridges
to get over first.
The spouse looked, online, at new models
and also found an authorized service centre
at the other end of our town, which option
we decided to explore today.
They delivered it home for us,
pristine, looking brand new,
and running like a dream.
It had been trying to tell us,
for so long, that it was unwell
and needed to go to Printer Hospital,
and have some money spent on its well being.
I guess everything and everybody
needs tender loving care.
16th March
Did you know
That pigeons can
Tell the time?
I water my plants
Each morning
At around 7.20,
After filling our
Drinking and cooking
water, from the RO supply
Which is what my plants
Thrive on.
The pigeons mutter
And splutter, impatient,
Waiting to drink
From the pots,
Once I'm done watering.
It almost seems as if
They are telling me
To hurry up and leave
So they can drink their fill.
17th March
I drove past your home
Yesterday, dear brother,
And fought down the urge
To stop, to enter the gate,
And ask the guard,
Mehra Sahib hain?
Knowing fully well
That you were not there
Not up those stairs,
Not there to call me Betey.
And neither was
my dear bhabhi,
Who would offer me
Narangi chutney
Made from narangis
From the tree they had planted
In the common garden
So many years ago.
Both of you together now,
This past year,
Still so sorely missed...
19th March
Afterwards
The detritus of Holi
And a little bit of magic too.
The elderly gentlemen
exercise together every morning
In the colony garden
And then sit on the benches
and chat for a while
Perhaps the best part of their day.
I walk around, on the path,
and a song wafts my way
One of the gentlemen is singing
Beautifully, tunefully, a Hori
A Barsaney ki Hori.
Happiness.
29th March
A hard fought battle
With the suitcases
( the old, hard ones)
In which our woollens
Have finally been stored
Till next winter,
When the entire circus
Will happen again.
I know I bought
A few cardigans
And pullovers last year,
Making it a huge fight
To close the suitcases!
I did win, though.
(Some old woollens
were too ratty to wear
And will definitely
Be given away
Before the next cold season).
For now, though, no guilt
Only triumph
At having completed, once more,
This daunting task.
North Indian seasons,
You are both joy and pain.
Can't have one
Without the other.
You teach me philosophy!
30th March
Petrified pigeons in a flap
flapping away to safety
as a black kite glides
between our tall buildings,
a rara avis in these parts.
