(69) Towards my hut.

(69) Towards my hut.


The gull takes off from the surface of the deep Blue,
not at all gullible, neither to gulp any deceit,
free to roam on the horizon, free to flutter;

What for the Blue mourns, roars, I know not,
or can I call it an excitement ,invincible might,
as that of the mighty superpowers,

by the shore I watch drawing lines on the sand,
my fingers inadvertently give shapes to wet lumps of sand,
the white surfaced waves roll on,

perhaps to move towards to undo the casual shapes,
a challenging spectacle, a warfare of black and white and blue waves,
I feel insignificant and pale into nothing with my petty craft;

The land not far inside throbs,
with haberdashers and vegetable vendors,
hawkers and meticulous merchants,

Far inside the feeble bell off the church
well informed cops counteracting goondas,
Merciless lathies on innocent and innocuous alike,

The small choultaries jubilant with cakes,
with silk and sandal paste,
a fleeing prisoner is handcuffed to the cell,

wearied and wonderstruck,
I walk along, sentiments touches me
touches me towards my hut, my palace and asylum.