Somewhere out there
Kumbhkaar is asleep
Hiding among the empty pots,
Leaving all his pending works-undone,
An explanation tag dangles
Somewhere around,
'I am small & a child, you see,'
& the devotee fans his face,
forgetting the wishes to be sanctioned,
Whispers, bewildered with the innocent maya, dancing upon the little eyelids, 'yes, sleep...
I guard'.
Defiant, enraged, the Unseen Anant hisses
Down below those pots,
Don't worry, i take care.
The Bluish smiles.
The flute silent,
Tinkling bells around anklet, tied,
Yamuna yet to be born,
Yashoda busy churning curd,
Demons lurking in the horizon....
In the meantime,
People cried, Holi hai,
In the external yards of Vrindavan,
And the colours started raining,
In a haste, Yashoda ran for the small baby, to protect him from the crowd and the colour-rain...
'.........Krishn........Krishn.........'
Her painful shrieks murmurs in the air, .....'where are you, son.....'
To silence her shrieks
Garuda chants-Aum.... a u m..... a u m.... unseen,
The conch sounds,
And forgetful of the universe
The little Blue sleeps,
To dream Radha, the Bliss*
The outlays are drawn now,
The Yamuna gussed out
From the canvas
Again a blue line with moonbeams as it's ornaments,
Reached Radha and incant in her ears, Krishn☆
The honeybee hums
To say
There are roses in the street
And lotus in Yamuna
Have bloomed
To write colour & spread fragrance
Holi
