Lost In Time


……………………………………………

Kashi haunts me
After months.
It is not just the picture-
The silent Ganga,
Ancient town,
Relaxed sadhus,
A pious brahmin
Walking the streets,
Radiant calm on his face,
Or cows, crowds and crossroads,
Or the cremation ghats
The rich, the poor and the sick,
All battling their way into nowhere,
It is also not Shiva alone.
It is Life against Death,
It is the nameless existence,
And those kind eyes stay
Following you everywhere,
And say,
“Look my child, this is me”
I prostrate again and again
Nothing to ask,
I surrender.
……………………………………………………………………….

Now,
Little time
And lost
Memories converge,
Tides have a way of speaking
With rise and fall
With heart beats
Caught in madness
Lashing waves tell stories
Of so much love and pain!

……………………………..
Did not see –
Darkness descend
On silent rocks or water
A grand spell of orange dusk!
A day’s story over
They disappear in flight
There is no one here
But this untied horse in wilderness.
…………………………………………..
Rains. They float like ants. On disturbed waters. So tiny, confused and defeated. They huddle. Those little wet birds. On dark trees. And under. Voices drown in fear.
…………………………………………………………………………………….

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Geeta Varma

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Now a writer, still struggling. Have been a journalist and a teacher. Love music and the Himalayas. Lived in different parts of India. Married to a writer. Have two sons and a daughter-in-law (more a daughter, new and ready made). I also have a brother and a sister, and four lovely nieces, a nephew son and a little grand niece. I live with my mother and my mother-in-law. All are book-lovers.
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