March Musings

 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.

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