Magic in the Air
My autumnal dawns
Unfurling in oppressive stillness;
Stirred nostalgic memories of festal mornings.
There was magic in the air once.
I- a child girl
Awoke to Nature’s symphony
Heralding Aurora
Giving wings to my thoughts,
And life to my languidly waking body.
The misty coldness of the fresh dew;
The scent of Jasmine pure;
Wafting in through windows ajar,
Driving me to delve deeper into the warm bed.
And listen half awake
To the clanging vessel of the milkman
On his early rounds of milking;
To listen to “Pattie’s” muffled monologue;
Or my “Amma’s” soft instruction to the maid;
To the floating notes of Suprabhat,
To the early songsters heralding
Apollo’s mighty entourage.
All- firing me to roll out of my bed;
To run down to the tiny pool,
To drink with my eyes the crystal clear water;
Catching the golden gleam of the snaking sun beam.
To partake in the joy of the occasional fish,
Surfacing for air.
Or waltz with the water snake
In his serpentine dance.
But now, nothing happens.
All recedes as reality rushes in –
And the clock ticks on.
Sadly I toss about. Where has it all gone?
The herons and the water fowls
Have migrated to marshy fields
The magpies and the finches have flown away,
In search of verdurous greens.
No water, no trees, only parched lands,
Marred by edifices of bricks and cement
No rambling houses, no cow sheds and hen coops,
No yard with gigantic mango trees,
Jack trees or tamarind trees.
Not even space for a swing for a little one.
Only matchbox houses huddling together,
And every village green
Turned to dusty, smoky towns.
The sunken eyes of the parched earth,
Gaping amidst the cement jungle,
Reflected the fear and sorrow gripping my soul
Mourning the death, of ceremonious festal dawns.
And, in their despairing, unfathomable depth
I saw mirrored, my own wistfulness-
For the magical symphony heralding Aurora
