Sometimes I perceive a solitary man

Standing by the side of a lonesome tree

Eyes hooked to the pavement

Lost in the wilderness of rushing cars

Hooting and tooting flying past the drudgery road

Roughened hair disheveled by the dusty wind

Bony and shriveled fingers knotted and resting

On the dry branch of the ‘lonesome tree’

Emaciated and spent of rueful life

I pass by him… he curiously throws a curvy smile

I wonder why he stands there everyday

Come sunshine

Come rain

Come winter

Come fog

His relentless craving to stand by its side

Raises innumerable questions in my mind

I smile back at him

He nods his head

I dare to talk to him a little afraid of rebuke

For he stands there lost in some faraway memory

I stand there… should I, should I not?

My hesitancy instills in him a will to talk

 I surrender

He speaks willingly:

“Sometimes ago this ‘lonesome tree’ was not bare”

“It flooded with leaves and fruits”

“The heavy boughs touched the ground”

“Bowing to God’s bounty”

“A gregarious man cut down the tree to build a road”

“And

Walked away with the laden branches”

“Ruthlessly shredding them to pieces”

“I survived

And

Hang here eternally

Mourning the loss”

                                                            ~Shobha Diwakar

                                                           Jabalpur, India