The Grass Flower

For years I have been walking
On the familiar
And not-so-familiar
Paths of the city.

The hissing of the
High-tech automobiles,
The rustle of the brisk feet
On the cemented pavements,
The whispers of walkers and
The whistles of the traffic police
Independent of the honking of
Speeding vehicles pierce my ears
And the extra-redness of the gulmohar
From the side-walks hits my eyes.

Over the years
Perhaps I have not cared
To discover you,
My pretty grass-flower,
I now suddenly behold
You, in full-bloom
At a season-less time
Right at my backyard.

As time changes its shade,
Dusty and sweaty days
Get fossilized into
Unidentified pages of history
And starry and lonely nights
Evaporate together
With the morning dew-drops.

You, my miniature grass-flower
Metamorphose yourself before my eyes
Into the significant dimension
Of Krishna’s cosmic image,
Full of ethereal magnificence
And earthly fragrance.

You pervade the vastness
Of my world, my sky, my dream
In a helpless moment.

RK Das