Saturday, February 16, 2013


orange saree
softly shines 

in the mild winter sun 
against blinding green

you drape your pallu
around your head

i watch
from behind the window 

of an air-conditioned 
train compartment 

the screen that
separates us

you, picking paddy
in mud-covered feet
me, sitting on my berth
with notepad and pen

using you
as my muse 

both of us

born of the same soil
in the same country 
but suddenly, I wonder

if being there
makes you
more Indian
than I am. 


yash gupta said...

I'm not wise enough to know such answers but your poem definitely makes me think about it.

யாரோ said...

True ....this land is still agricultural in its nature.

Aayushi Mehta said...

I think noticing her and writing this makes you very much Indian as well :)