Now there is another problem – in contemporary poetry, if
someone writes on flowers, trees, clouds, and birds, he /she
will be cast out from the society of poets because romantics
have no place in contemporary literary poetry. It is a pity that
we have not left any place for the wonderful earthly creatures
that enrich and beautify our imagination. Where are the trees
for birds, where after all is the place for trees in our modern
cities? The song of a bird is bound to be different if she has
to sit on the electric pole and sing! ............I was
astonished to realise that I did not know so many things about
my fellow living things. Like – trees talk a lot in the evening,
a flower does not change shade and smiles even in the hot sun,
and it gets tired only after sunset. I saw the flight of birds
change according to their moods and their geometry is not bad. I
could feel that the beauty of each leaf and grass is unique and
cannot be seen in another.
When vision marches;
One day when ears vibrate;
Reminds me of curled strings of violin
I want you to play the tunes of
On opposite sides
Was an adult from childhood and
Never played with Barbies
She came from an ancient River...
Her soul was wet with dreams, and
Her hands were wounded,
Digging in oceans
Searching for destiny...
are not trained to love
But like instinctive mothers,
Punish erring children
as they rise and fall
amid blood, chappals and cries
bangles, books and dreams all traded
in the loss of innocence.
The day ends without promise.
The Hartal was successful, said the papers.