What does a black buck see?
Questions are my secret lovers.
They keep me on the top of my cosmic self.
The climax never comes, just eludes.
And there in lies the beauty of solitude.
Since a child one such wild,
Has always gnawed gently at the skin of my desire,
The red rosé, and its gentle sharp thorns
I see it, grandfather saw it,
What does kalu the dog see?
What does popatlal the parrot see?
What does Kaaliyaar the Black Buck see?
I dissected their brains,
Electron micros-coped the neurones,
Cat scanned them, consumed them
I could not see what they saw.
Then I saw some one else,
In the red rosé.
I wondered what she saw in the rosé?
It now hits me,
The question was right,
But it was a tricky little mite.
The be all and end all is not the Homo sapiens sapiens
In the scheme of light.
To know what kalubhai, popatlal, kaaliyarbhai see,
I have to be them,
The scalpel will not propel
Into knowledge that lies in the dimension
Beyond human dwell.
In Saurashtra my place of birth animals too are suffixed when referred to kids as Bhai or Ben, Bhai stands for brother and Ben for sister. For records I am a law abiding citizen the kaaliyar is a protected species and I have never touched the animal but gazed at it in awe.
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