Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
In the evening my mother becomes a peepal
Growing in a wall
Of this house
Which has been locked
For years.
Her leaves become strings
Of the veena, held by a sadhu
Who starts his journey
As the sun sets
From the valley of Nishad
Enshrouded in autumn,
And stays on the timberline
Of Pancham.
Afterwards, the terrain vanishes.
He finds himself in an ocean of eons,
Where the sorrows of evening
Are melded into the bliss of night,
Blessed by a lord in white raiment
Wearing a hoary pearl necklace.
The leaves of the peepal
Keep the sadhu warm
In the cold waters.
In the evening my mother becomes a peepal
Which has seen it all, a silent witness
Growing in the wall:
The moments of joy
And departure,
The fragments of love
And death.
Mother is a minor raga
Melded with a major scale.
I chase her on keys
And strings of love
From one octave to another.
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