Mumbai Zen
By Yash Pandit
1
As dawn opens its eyes,
a young boy throws a stone into the lake.
Suddenly, there are two morning skies:
one rippling beneath the other.
2
Grandmother noiselessly waters the roseplant
every afternoon,
unaware if the roses
shall bloom, or not.
3
Reclaiming all their lustre,
two suns merge into one trembling horizon.
Darkness crawls into the skies;
it whispers a secret to the trees; it says:
all light is borrowed.
Reality is but a million harlequin reflections.
4
From a yellowed leaf falling gracefully,
from a mother’s pure tear,
from a sepal bending itself to bloom,
from the ever effusing seasons,
love murmurs a fractured song.
5
Limbless streaks of light run
across fields.
Like petals in a pond, they
disturb the reflection.
Vast clouds of nicotine exhale
on bridges of phosphorescent glow.
I try to recollect Summer,
but the image is too blurred.
I shiver under the streetlight, instead.
6
The old house shrieks in pain,
wooden doors creak.
Photos of memories with faces,
like unpolished pebbles,
hang crookedly in the labyrinths.
The sound of water,
dripping
from a broken faucet ripples across corridors.
Rust has settled into the veins of time;
it waits, for a flash,
for an hour,
then runs again.
Sunlight enters through the windows
and stands breathless.
Disconnected,
I stare into the gaps,
find a comfortable door,
to slid into the night’s womb
and breathe eternally.
Another year has rushed by too quickly.
Author:
Yash Pandit is a 12th grade commerce student from Mumbai. He began writing on an old typewriter inspired by the Beats. Apart from reading and writing, Yash also takes part in typewriter poetry gatherings.
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One Response to “Mumbai Zen”
The line ‘All light is borrowed’ is extremely interesting.