"Stuff and Nonsense"

It grows quiet. The omnipresent hum of the fans dims and then stops. Bird calls become louder, so do the utensils in the opposite building. The metro, the airplane, the vehicles on the road all become deliberate in their sounded presence.  The sunlight forcing its way through the welcomingly open balcony doors seems to make false promises of continued presence, and like starstruck girls we embrace it and melt in its luminous warmth.  The perfect Delhi weather is more cherished in its famed brevity: the few weeks of a perfect balance of clothes drying in a single day, and of contemplating the need for fan.

As I turned off the highway into a village road, From the corner of my eye, not daring to look longer or higher, I spotted a peacock Perched in nonchalant grace atop the the divider streetlight. Always the edgy driver,  The infinitesimal look is all I took And smiling, I pointed him out.  Passing, I tried locating him on my rearview mirror, but couldnt. I don't remember seeing the colours Only imagined them there The silhouette and the I-own-this-place look is all I recall. Always the nervy driver, I wondered If it might have been a trickery of my eyes  But pointing out, I found reassurance that the vision was real.  It's been days since that day, And every morning I make that turn, I look up high and long  Wishing that a king of birds Would gladden with poise and vibrance My dusty grey commute But alas, nevermore! The memory of that lone vision alone remains, With a hope - that someday again When I turn off the highway, I will see.