Prithviraj Taur

The Peacocks Cries

These are peacocks’ cries,
Or farmers’ call
Inviting rain?

These are rumors of the hag haunting,
Or the terrors of death,
Let loose around?

These are robberies on the wayside,
Or the premonitions of the times
These are embankments dried up,
Or the sorrows invisible,
Piled upon pile?

Whose call is this?
Why so much of clamors
Without any words?

Is it the darkness that encompasses?
Or the whipping of a lifetime
With the mouth gagged?

We Talk On The Mobile Phone

We talk on the mobile phone,
Freely chat,
Carry on tete-a- tete,
Relate tales untold
About her look or my bearing
We settle our sours on the mobile phone

I care a lot for her
I tell her
Or she informs me
Of sugar exhausted
Or ask me to bye the vegetable,
Or reminds me of the message
Received from some strangers

I give a smile from this end
Or lay down lips on the keypad
She gives me a smile, free and frank
Or fine sensibilities traverse
All through her body

She gives a call, now and again
And being busy, I ignore it
She worried more and more
With her soft fingers trembling on the button
Now and again
And ears anxious in all anxiety

Lifelong promises we make
And say ‘I love you’
From the bottom of my heart
While travelling by ST Bus or by Auto-rickshaw
Or by motor bike
In a far off town or city

She always accompanies and talks
And talks lot
About things unspoken
I, too, hear a lot
Of things unheard of.

We always talk on the mobile
We talk on the mobile only,
Just when we aren’t face to face
With each other.

Prithviraj Taur (B - 14 Jan 1979, Jalna, Maharashtra.)
Department of Marathi
Swami Ramanand Teerth Marathwada University, Vishnupuri, Nanded – 431606
Contact – 7588412153



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