The Street
The Street – I
Childhood
The naked child runs out, into the street
I suspect from an impending bath
His haggard mother follows close behind
Calling out our names aloud
Thus I’m startled awake some mornings
But relieved to realize that ‘it’s not for me’
That the one in trouble is my namesake
The naked child on the street
One day, the child sneaked up to a lazing dog
He sat up tall at the sight of the child…
The child kissed the dog on the snout
Much to my fear and his delight
The street for the child is another home
Redolent with wonderful sounds and sights
As his mother’s watchful gaze eases off him
To the street he heads, for a taste of life
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Roomies on their street
The Street – II
On Christmas Eve
I sit closeted in my house
In anticipation of a quiet Christmas Eve
A pressure cooker hisses
At the landlords’ in the floor beneath
From the neighbors’ stream into my house
Strains of carols both recorded and live
Another neighbor’s disagreements
On the telephone will last into the night
I’ve learnt the sounds from this street
Can not be subjugated by curtains or walls
And from my balcony, it’s an effort to avoid
Chance intrusions into the opposite house
From across the street, the mother angrily
Calls out to the now familiar child
A quiet evening seems a distant luxury
So I’ll settle for the street’s small town charm
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The Street – III
The Camel and the Gypsy
A peculiar sight on my street
Reminiscent of sand dunes far away
A desert gypsy, a reluctant camel in tow
Curious residents stop to stare
An oddity for a Southern morning
More a moment from a north Indian day
A shrill bell announces the arrival
The perturbed street dogs give them way
The camel and the master
Rugged, unwashed, in perfect harmony
A shared beauty of primordial merit
Of mutual struggles and destiny
A temporary focus for this street’s din,
They generate awe-filled delight.
As they stop under the coconut tree
Interested residents inquire about the ride
As he helps a child on to the camel’s back
His glistening tribal earrings catch my eye
Would any story ever do justice to
The adventures burrowed deep in his brow
I imagine the two setting off on foot
Leaving behind poor but familiar environs
Traversing the country and its thoroughfares
Through winter nights, and rainy days
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The landlord's cat
The Street – IV
From the Roof
I collect dry clothes from the lines.
Thus I find my way up here, on the roof,
Out of habit, for mundane chores
And at times, out of wanderlust.
It’s calm here especially at night,
But the roof affords only a limited view.
The surrounding buildings stand taller,
The coconut tree is an obstruction.
But the view is enough to accentuate
The demerits, the disorder in the street,
Its existence seemingly accidental
To the plan of disorderly houses.
But with the night, descends upon
The street, calm and a measure of order,
Except for the occasional packs of dogs.
And my street calls it an early day.
In stealth conversations over the phone,
And in saunters across the roof
Under the night sky of infinite beauty,
The street offers memorable moments.
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From the roof - II
The Street – V
On a Lazy Morning
Most were inconspicuous
As they hurried down my street.
But you are the one I’ll hope to see
On sun-kissed lazy mornings, leisurely.
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On my wall
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