Meeting With Night Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

Walking out of the lift, and the foyer,
I meet the night,
And look up automatically, to see the lone bright star
Overhead, and the sodium vapour lamps of BMC below.

As I come out of our compound to M K Marg,
In front of the FDA gate on this road,
My attention is drawn to young couples – three of them,
On either side of the road, nestling on to each other.

Walking on through the low connecting lane to BKC,
It is only slowly that the other milder, modest stars
Come into my view, and only when I have passed on
To the new pink-paver pavement, I see the Moon
The sliver above my head through the foliage
With a bit of surprise that I had not seen it earlier.
Actually when I tilt so much to see the Moon,
My carotids get pressed, reducing flow of blood
Above, and I feel giddy in seconds and look down.

I walk my four kilometres with iPod,
Spilling raga music into my ears brought low
And not knowing how to appreciate the nuances
Especially in the speeding traffic and horns,
Topped by the screeching of tyres.

Engaged in a serious conversation in Marathi
Three middle-aged men are standing stolidly
On my way to cross and start climbing the Skywalk.

As I climb up the steps, I see a few single women
Coming down with faces lost in planning
Their work for preparing dinner on reaching home.

Walking through the skywalk I see a group of youngsters
Seven or eight of them arguing with the Security Staff:
I am worried for them though they are in uniform,
But were putting up a loud brave front.

I went on to Beharamapada side of the sidewalk,
It is always alive, vibrant and noisy, night and day –
I look out on the Western dusky sky if I can, Rilke-like
Locate a star often waiting for me to notice it,
I saw twinkling lights of plane taking off from Santa Cruz.

Above the Arabian sea and Madh Island it flies,
Takes a turn to the North, maybe it is a flight to Delhi
From where I flew in yesterday above the Thane Creek
On time, though while going, we had to sit in the Jet
Aircraft from 7 10 am to 11 20 am when repaired it left.

Walk over, I knock since key was not with me today
But quickly pulled out the headphone,
And put them in shirt pocket for my shorts had none,
Lest Tilaka accuses me of the first sin, Man’s disobedience!
For she had strictly told me, ‘No music’ when I started.

Every night has its own colors and sounds and lights,
Activities and surprised reactions, and different persons
To see, or sometimes meet, some sniffing, hand-licking strays,
But gets made up on the sky with moon, planets and stars,
And on ground with innocent youngsters expectant on love.