Under an azure sky
With the withering midwife gaze of the summer sun An earthen secret of the silk cotton burst open Revealing dozens of black princesses ensconced in their regal cottony chambers. Around them stretched a summer forest Dried goldens and coppery browns And the occasional fiery red Of the Flame of the forest. A few hours after the birth of the princesses into the summer world A crow descended upon the royal branch And out of juvenile curiosity Plucked at their kingly cocoon Alas! The cocoon crashed into the bed of dried leaves underneath The crow, his curiosity satiated, Flew off with the 'caw caw' of a village idiot. The princesses lamented at their fate, Dreams of flying, of ruling the forest Crushed prematurely. The sun shone, their spirits broke And they resigned themselves to the safety of the known. One lass was a bad seed, and she refused to let Fate control her dreams, She whipped up her cottony carpet And let the gentle evening breeze Parachute her into the darkness Away from screams of admonishment, weeping indignant sisters. The first night she rested on the branches of the ghost tree Whispering with spirits in the moonlight. At dawn she took off with the wind, On a magic carpet of her own. The wind was her guide now, her friend, her companion Together they laughed at the thieving langurs on the jackfruit tree Revered creatures of majestic pale coats and innocent black faces Delicately preening out the delectable sweetness of the fleshy fruits The 'krruurr kruurr' of the barbet resounded in the hills, While a lone serpent eagle circled the skies. As noon neared, the wind seemed to tire And he laid her tenderly on a sunny bloom of the copperpod Promising to return at sundown. He kept his promise And returned Bearing the heady fragrance of the mahua flowers For the Seed-princess. She thanked him for the extraordinary gift, And they danced away, A twirling shadow in the twilight Under the ballroom of stars. Intoxicated by the brew of romance She was an untamed pixie in her bridal gown And when she came to rest amidst the shady Banyan roots, The wind had already left. She awoke at dawn, Finding cold comfort in the jewels of dew on her blanket. Gigantic wooden gnarled roots imprisoned her And there wasn’t even a whiff of her beloved companion Would she die at the feet of the holy ficus, she wondered For in this dark dungeon, there was neither water nor light. She lay in despair as time passed her by Faced with imminent death. Occasionally an orange-headed thrush would hop close And pluck off her silky dress In preparation for his nest. At night, a tree mouse would sniff for food And she would tremble with fear under the fast-disappearing cotton tent. In the mornings, barbets and hornbills feasted in the canopy And parakeets too, Wasting more than they could eat The figs would fall to the ground, Spattering her tattered dress with dirty pink slush. Once an entire fruit fell atop her Burying her amidst mud and the fleshy pulp Now, she was truly afraid… For Hope finally deserted her. That night, the tree mouse returned Her heart thudding louder, The rodent drew nearer She shut her eyes "Atleast I have known love" And he swallowed the fruit And the silk cotton seed whole. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (Contd in next post)
0 Comments
|
AuthorRamblings on wildlife sharing spaces with non-wild humans Archives
December 2019
Categories
All
|