the yellow of the ring-road flowers and the green chlorophyll
of their tiny leaves flowing like molten iron in the wind, watch
the wind! It entered in my ear holes, and the pores of the skin,
such ethereal feeling as if light got bent by the gravity of the
spirit. the whirl of it, the touch of it, irradiating liberation just as
the cedars standing in silence for years. this wind is their friend
and enemy. this is their Shu. miles across in those quarters, the
dusted window shutters open to welcome this long yearned wind
which had died away slowly like the blue planet in the Goldilocks
zone. yet it is getting strong these days as if it has been offered
the sacrificial offerings of the Vedic meters that begin with Aum
and never end. the pregnant woman felt the first kick when this
wind surrounded her like the spell of Fujin. this wind is the drop
of Jupiter, the shine of the sun, and the song of the river martins.
Himanshu Ranjan lives in Vijayawada, Andhra Pradesh. He is a poet and a Young India Fellow. His upcoming anthology is titled ’36 Love Stories’.