DIRECTION

 

DIRECTION

My pen probes for

Clouds, butterflies, blossoms

But is not able to locate.

My eyes intend to view

Courtyard smoothed with

Mud and cow-dung

It is not visible anywhere.

Till the end of limitless Earth

Everything seems to be shattered

Soul has drowned in 

Seventh bottom of the ocean.

In streets choked with smoke

How will bloom clouds

Butterflies and flowers.

Creators of abstract art

Will create altogether 

Everything

Courtyard smoothed with 

Mud and cow-dung

Swinging cradles of wind

Full of colours and fragrance

Clouds, butterflies, flowers

Charade trying to find meanings of 

Similes and metaphors.

Where farmers are committing suicide

Atom- plants are being installed

How long will survive over-there

Courtyard smoothed with mud and cow-dung

In  malls of bazaar, from which direction 

Will land vaguely roaring cloud?

How will colour of flowers be retained 

And smile of their countenance? 

I was perturbed like this only

At that very moment, appeared 

A woman in front of my eyes.

And a footpath stretched itself.

Vanished King's Way of development

Abstract and  obscure

In my poem, landed 

Her diligent figure

Plucking  shoots of millet in fields.

In my astonished vision

Were landing on their own

Around that diligent lady

Clouds smeared with scent

Scented flower giggling 

With abundant colours

Entire field was brimmed

With butterflies

Evening was tainted with colours

Two hands were smoothing

Courtyard with mud and cow-dung

A Rajasthani poem of Reputed literary icon Aidan Bhati Ji, translated by me into English

Rajni Chhabra