Kaivalya

When she makes me blush 'Is it love?' I ask myself And desire her touch.

Often I had chanced to ponder on And awe at the wondrous gracefulness With which she manages to climb in The brimming omnibus amidst human mess. Her name, I know not, but I can tell Her's is a beauty which many fancy. Though I'm unsure she bears which fragrant smell- Her cheerful face, even in my dreams, I see. Seldom she opened her little mouth To converse with a neighbor sitting next And spoke in sweetest dialect of the South, Her tongue now moving and now coming to rest. On some hard day, in the crowded bus With effort she strains her nimble feet Would she be angry? I start to guess.. Yet her smiling lips are just as sweet. P.Siddartha Dt:June 2005