Ananta Madhavan


A Flight of Parakeets


There is no name for this hint of 'suchness'
Erupting through an ordinary day,
Not as a reasonable grief, a consequence
Of known bereavement, some interior death
Which daily robs me of my magnitude -
(A politic smirk or ignoble word) ,
But as a causeless mood, a light filtered
From un-lived moments, keeping its own logic,
Which is not answerable to the tragic
Act of living. There is a strange richness
In this surrender, when the bounds of the body
Are broken and the mind is in flood,
And suddenly there is a drowning glimpse
Of parakeets in target-shooting dusk.

Submitted: Saturday, February 01, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

A personal 'sonnet' I wrote, on returning from
my office in New Delhi some 50 years ago: I tried to revisit a mood I felt while looking out of my balcony at dusk. It was printed by a newspaper soon after submission.

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