SONG OF AUTUMN

The sheer beauty of the colour of emptiness

be it in the silence of the mind  or in the silence of the heart.

How I yearn to be as hushed as the autumn leaves which fall

having  quietly  lived their tenure with

no expectations of appraisals and performance bonuses.

In the stillness of the dawn, another leaf takes birth 

the tree quietly bearing motherly pains and ignorant of delivery rooms

unaware of protein shakes or diet plans

surviving on what food the period has to offer.

The stoic nature of trees to let go of the leaves it nursed

standing on its own, waiting to rebloom with no pressured deadlines.

Such a beautiful fragrance it offers, the lull of the barren autumn

neither gloating nor belching in what it had, 

dispensing every hue and aroma

and yet confronting  a unique sense of fulfilment.

BODIES

 Bodies on buses flagging arms and limp legs

in tired colours of creased green, blue or red

sloppily loaded every morning and evening

to destinations with no charm or shade.

I see them everywhere on weekdays and weekends

the colour of thankless jobs changing with car speed

cutting grass, building stadiums, laying roads

herds of them clustered sharing meals 

under biting heat and pricking chills

every dime earned in this foreign land

weighs heavier in their country

dreams of tiny faces somewhere 

wrinkled or bangled aspirations 

elsewhere tied to it.

no smile awaits to welcome each evening 

no soothing hands to wipe sweat

 or  tears of frustration.

home cooked warm food, a luxury once 

every two years 

their lives squished by  colossal loans 

and dubious agents 

fatigue and loneliness

their constant companions

toil is the only language their bodies utter

their colour of skin same as my brown

 other's privileged eyes pose before

 museums and beaches 

their glued eyes struggle to open

after  each day's drudgery.