Mangifera Indica Friends

Only a dispassionate non-mango eater can look at a photo like this and ruminate instead of eat.

Most folks whose photos inspire poetry (on this blog), are possibly currently imbibing the fruit of the season with such relish, that they forget to share some with their cameras.

 And, so, its Google to the rescue....

Some
are like the
Hapoos Mango Peel,
thin, translucent,
yet so strong,
holding in all
that amazing sweetness
ready to give,
at a cutting notice...

Some are stuffed
with importance of self,
huddling their own together,
rich, and orange,
in raptures
over their own demeanour,
leaning on the poor seed ,
wondering inside.

And Some
are like the
tough,
hard,
uncomplaining,
never acknowledged,
hard working seed inside
that carries the weight
of the
good and bad deeds
of mango throughout
its life.

It all depends
on who and what
you see
in your mangoes,
 errr.... your friends....!

A Haveli Remembers .....

Blogger friend, traveller, photographer  and storyteller and the only person I know who has been featured in the 2011 edition of Lonely Planet,     Anil P.,  recently did a lovely post entitled  Conversations , and backdrops in Jodhpur  , where he wondered about the juxtaposition of a person speaking on his cell phone,  vis-a-vis the old haveli, now locked and boarded up,  and at the base of which, the fellow decided to sit and continue his conversation.

To me, it bespoke the change in our society, a change from inclusive to exclusive.

As Anil P. said  (in reply to this poem posted as a comment there) , "  Imagine what it'd be like to not have Jharoka's to keep an eye on the street and the goings on.  Windows that overlook the street retain the oxygen that pumps into the street and beyond......"


(all photographs by Anil P)

Leaning in anticipation
out of the
jharoka,
eyes searching
through her
earthy red-yellow veil ,
she calls out
to her friend
passing by;
rushes down the steps,
out through
the big door,
stops at the threshold,
a huge smile
matched
with an outpouring of words.

A few more windows
have folks looking down
to see what
the commotion is all about.
Some indulgent,
some smirking,
and disapproving
this wild display....

They should have lived
in a time,
where
you never saw
who you were talking to,
the person
never noticed your delight....

AS
you sat down
at the base of it all,
leaned back,
they heard
a one sided conversation
devoid of
all the action.

No wonder
the doors and windows
prefer
to close their
eyes and minds....

Hands across the Ether

Real Friends remain friends. Regardless of distance and absence. And no one needs to prove anything, either to each other or to the world. Thoughts on reading this post by Braja.






Treads hesitantly.
the child,
through a dark
garden,
across
lush foliage
and
crushed flowers...
watching the moon
aeons away
through the branches,
matching his little feet,
step by step,
as it moves
with him
in the sky,
in and out
through the clouds.
Smiling, in friendship.



Those
who said,
it mindlessly revolves
around you,
test
the brain of the moon.
But I alone,
know it's heart,
as it walks with me
quietly,
cosmically,
aeons away,
always,
Smiling, in friendship.