Thursday, November 18, 2010

She has forgotten something

She has forgotten something.
Or so she thinks as a way of life.

As she stands worried and panting
by the wayside
having missed her usual bus,
an endless train of anxieties running on coal
rushes across her mind roaring,
her lapses looking in her face
from each passing window.
What is that she's left undone?
Didn't turn off gas cylinder?
Didn't put latch in place on rear side door?
Fan in bedroom not switched off?
Or is it her little son's home work?
Or may be she hasn't given her man
his kerchief he has to lose in the bar.

No. Nothing of that sort.
But sure something she has forgotten.
She can't gather that old face of hers
always red with memories.

She has forgotten something.
In files while hurriedly leaving office?
Or in her column in the attendance register?
On the bench at the vegetable vendor's
in the street?

No. Never.
Never does she forgot anything.
Except of course herself.
[Translated by K.V.Subrahmanyan]

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