Grown
into years
Of
anxiety and apprehension
For
a foothold or cushion
Called
survival,
Sweeped
by the epistemology
Of
impermanence,
Unraveled
by
Childhood
episode,
Young-age
romance
And
mid-life grumbling
Over
the scratch and scar
Along
the way of experiencing life
Pungent
sometimes
Sometimes
enwrapping
Everywhere
I see my father’s face
Prudent,
strained with age
Allowing
perhaps little change
To
caution me, as before, against
Yesterday’s
adolescent craze
Today’s
growing impatience and
Tomorrow’s
waning credence.
(These feelings are for the poet’s father, Mr. Dunia Lall Bakshi, who was an erudite scholar – passed away on 26.1.2002. May his soul rest in peace) –Editor