delhi

she stands

high and mighty

regal, royal

haat of this country

large neat roads

with important-sounding names

old-red charm

of forts and monuments

janpath, quick bargains

lush colours, against

the pillar-white

of connaught place

hauz khas

trees and brick

dim alleys

quaint shops, cafes

pigeons, peace

at jama masjid

rickshaws zip

through narrow gallis

paratha, lassi

kebabs, rabdi

metro, people

in impersonal proximity

big cars, small cars

those on foot

those on the footpath

she sustains all

she is proud

she does not embrace

but will lend herself

to open arms.

boil

bamboo for paper
silkworms for silk
leaves for tea

old for new
raw for ripe
life for life

potted plant

the thirst was killing
she writhed and screamed
pain spasmed

through her once strong veins
a little water, a drop
he walked in, she saw

him hang clothes
on the washing line
so close, she gasped

for breath, wanting,
begging in despair for
a little water, a drop

but he disappeared

and she knew she had lost

she collapsed heavily

sucked out of her,
the green of the
freshly-washed shirt

dripped, beside her
drop by drop, into
a green puddle on the floor.