My grandpa and me...one afternoon...

'your mind is like the stone
Placed at the outer side of the wheel on spin...
And so you are full of unrest and non dreams...'
Saying this my grand father closed his eyes
Sitting erect on his afternoon cot where lied
The last few rays of the sun sleeping full of bliss
On his white long beard there played the afternoon breeze...

I sat at his feet looking at his face...
So calm...cool...soft...without any stir...
He looked like an image of a saint from alien land far...
His forehead...his cheeks...and thin lips...
Had a glow of sweet charm...some divine chips-
as if they had fallen all over his composed self...
As if my granddad to some impossible depth delved...

Outside the world must have been clumsy...
The television screen must have Gordon Ramsay...
Those kids of the neighbourhood in sweated shirts
Must have been shouting playing fighting and falling apart...
And those beauties with handbags and sarees with flowery signs
Must have come and sat on the benches for their afternoon chat...
The cars must have honked loud and straight
Out of anger a friend must have slapped another losing faith...
A cab driver somewhere must have picked up a quarrel...
Hurly burly must have broken out a hell of a trouble...
But inside my grandpa's simple room
Only peace and tranquil sense bloomed
And I also closed my eyes sleepy as if to rest
I thought from the outer fringe of the spinning disc
I had started a journey to reach its centre so still...
And the outside world with all its shouts and cries
Don't know where temporarily did fly...
Peace and calm made a fruitful descent
Then... thought I got His saffron scent...

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