Notes of a wannabe hermit

The world lies in a frozen slumber, Not a soul stirring for miles on end. She rises up from the decrepit bed, A far cry from the soft sheets And the warmth of her bed at home. They say this is her home now. The stars overlooking the backyard garden Grow fainter with the dawn sneaking in. The end of the sari draped over her head Flutters away in the breeze, She stumbles - Her mother never let her walk barefoot Inside her house, no less into the wilderness. Who knew what beasts were lurking in the shadows! - Holding the basket close in one hand To keep the fresh blossoms from falling To the earth moist with dew, As she covers her head with the other Before her bare head be seen By some early-riser Out to get some fresh morning air. She remembers her father’s proud smile And her mother’s gentle touch on her head While her teachers praised her intelligence. The henna on her hands Has faded to the same shade As the stalks of singhar she plucks To offer the Goddess. The yellow oleanders coll...

Dear Cosmos, I’ll not begin with asking you about your wellbeing. I know you are in as good a condition as you can be considering everything that’s happened these past 13.77 billion years or so. Not to mention that to the dwellers of my realm, you are nothing but a humongous rocky, dusty void devoid of feelings, perception and above all, the ability to respond to my questions. I bet most of them found this letter weird even before they began reading it! But that is of no consequence to me whatsoever. I think you already know all about me. I’ll soon tell you why. I don’t know when was the last time someone remembered to update you on the whereabouts of this quaint little planet, so I’ll begin with the furthest back in space-time I can think of. A lot has happened in the last 600 million years. Things are a mess here, no less exquisite than the primordial soup which created you and me. But I guess things aren’t much different from that any day.  In short, while you were sp...

Giant hailstones rolling down the verdant hills Into the little brook in the grassy fields, Both originating from the same silver sky; What a beautiful treat it must be to the eye! But oh! My little friends must be trembling and cold! The storm left them thoroughly drenched, I was told. None to caress their coat, lone, aimlessly they roam. Oh! How I wish I was with them at home!