I cannot untangle the winds
that curl around my feet
as I walk along Mussoorie's
fashionable mall
I stagger and wonder.
The wind is persistent
binding itself on me like tender vines--
With it come rushing dried leaves,
scraps of discarded paper,
wrappers, bits of clod, dust....
fragments of yesteryear's packets, perhaps,
a few bottle caps
plastic-pieces---
they all rush and swirl around me--
the winds forgot to carry the fragrance
of budding jasmines or
blooming blossoms that rustle languorously
far beyond vision in some other valley......
My feet forget their easy gait
with slum's buried memories
waking like vengeful ghosts
to overwhelm me
while I stagger and wonder
on Mussoorie's fashionable Mall.
----- Sharad Rajimwale
10-08-2010; Jodhpur, India
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem