Evenings of claustrophobia slip into the wastefulness of night.
A memory shudders and leaves its imprint on the night lamp.
From the frames an empty gaze emits the hours and days
That lie in eternity within the colors that were.
Friends that were and the worlds that belonged
Frozen with plastered smiles in the hall of fame
Love that had left the heart one day
Now hangs on the walls of this room.
Happiness that exists on the other side of the universe
Will visit you soon, says the unsolicited astrologer.
A banyan tree must be worshipped and stars will be at peace.
Your Mars will stop clashing with the Saturn and you will find love.
Twenty rupees only, he demands shamelessly.
If only he knew the order of arrival.
Happiness then love?
Love then happiness?
For twenty rupees only
He sold a hope.
The kitten that purred in the lawn once,
The only survival of the litter,
Sleeps in the bed with a name of Tolstoy.
After hunger and hunt and few house visits, this street-cat knew of faces and eyes.
Pat it and feed milk and bread, Fur needs a wash sometimes.
Its green eyes light up and ears twist when I call the name for food or love.
Rolling on the foot and jumping with joy, it scratches my skin often.
In my arms
Tolstoy carries love in its claws.