Mobile Phone

It's only in the pocket of a shirt,as a snake Sleeps well in the cane-basket of a snake-charmer Off and on it sounds sweet whistle after retiring from sleep, And I take it in my hand to see on it's small beaming screen Someone calling me in my nickname through misty fog, As if one of my friends of childhood days Sending an aeroplane made of hand-paper…

Or when I get your SMS in a crowded bus : 'Are you sure to come to-day a quarter to seven, I'll be waiting with the flashing light of a glow-worm in my hand' Cold and wet wind comes to my two dry lips As milk is deposited unseen in the branches of cactus, Trickling drop by drop throughout the day, The very waiting of yours in the same way gets intensified

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The Silk Road Literature Series 2021