(Is there any kabaadiwala, junk or scrap
dealer,
to give away the wasted words?)
Words are glutinous. In some summer
afternoon some of them melted.
Some of them wallowed at my absence. The most
sticky ones
Drabbled and draggled like naughty kids. Now
most of them are frozen.
There were some words I collected from the
market, from the hills and the stars
There were some words I collected from the
streams and also from distance screams
All the words that I kept for you for some
special day
All the slapdash words that you just left
away
Some are still forming cocoons, you don’t
get any idea about their tomorrow.
Some, that are not frozen till now daubing
with some yesterdays.
This winter everything’s frozen, including
the air. Can’t breathe properly.
Some frozen words blocked my throat.
I opened all the doors and windows, let
the words go away...
the words that are just lying here and
there making me claustrophobic
Kankhowa, I warned you thousands of times
to keep the house clean
Now let the roof leak, let the sunshine
in...
