Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I am stranded
At the centre
Of a sprawling round-about
Even as Time resolves
In the visible pace
Of the seconds hand
On my old wrist-watch.

They say,
They have seen
Time crawling
Like a soiled infant
On the earthen floor
Of their neighbour’s courtyard.

During my youth
I have seen Time
From the spectator’s gallery,
Running with the exuberance
Of an able athlete
On a hundred-metre-track.

Now Time has mellowed
Like my beloved grandma
Into a handful of
Crumpled anatomy,
Squeezed to the core
Like a piece of ice-cube,
In the bewildered eyes
Of her grandson.

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