MA (March 27,1951 / India)

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Are We Misfits- Feel Intrigued! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Grey pigeon flutters on ledge of concrete.
Wonder, how it survives on urban streets.
Seen them flock in city squares as folks throw seeds.
Unlike hawks don’t swoop down and snatch with greed.

Dusk falls gets draped in a pall of thick smog.
A few sparks rise as I add some new logs.
Glance at fireplace, feeling somewhat woeful.
Reminisce about my city beautiful.

Childhood, open spaces, song of Bulbul.
Cycling to school in fog, feel bit wistful.
Now cooped up on seventh floor in a high rise.
Eavesdropp at my avian mate and realise

With surprise, we are misfits and loners.
Why it shuns trees and prefers asphalt floors?
Its eyes look sort of haunted, rarely speaks.
Don’t recall lately with anything in its beak.

Lost in thought I pull up my patchwork quilt.
Just then a cloud bursts and rain falls in sheets.
At dawn, wobble to window, feeling groggy.
The ledge is deserted, covered with bird droppings.

Oh, my ally of last night, have a safe flight.
No words, speech: intuitively shared our plight.
Pray you reach home back with your kith and kin
And your life is filled with joy, peace and bliss.


Chandigarh, a city in Northern India is called city beautiful

User Rating: 2,8 / 5 ( 38 votes ) 10

Comments (10)

Mamtaji ur capacity to navigate from the humdrum to the un spoilt beauty of rural settings leaves one a bit sad and the tinker of metallic bells in the necks of toiling buffalo….suddenly come alive. The urban glut and blitz are now so far from nature that threw up life, a sort of necessary evil…if I may Deep down there is this desire for a return to the un-convoluted peace and tranquility of the sadhu….why we are awestruck by fluttering masses of avian grandeur…is a an answer in itself. the inherent musicality of schooling birds are such a treat and they too seem to mirror the beauty and inherent rhythm of nature. ur lament is awash with nostalgia and the debris of life’s compulsions… a sad and very reflective poem, beautifully –artfully done…I wish u well! Congratulations on a beautiful piece… Regards cheers and ten
lovely write.. I too feel it sometimes...are we misfits?
dear mamtaji, we poets too are real misfits in the globalized new world...........
IN THIS WORLD WITH MORE HAWKS THAN DOVES, - AN ARTIST DOES OCCASIONALLY FEEL THAT HE IS A MISFIT! THE NOBLE PEACE PRIZE HAS NOT BROUGHT ANY APPRECIABLE CHANGE FOR US EITHER! BUT I STILL LIKE TO PIN MY HOPE ON THE DOVE WHICH BROUGHT BACK A TWIG IN ITS BEAK AND SAT ON THE NOAH'S ARK TO GIVE HIM THE WELCOME MESSAGE THAT THE FLOOD WATERS WERE RECEEDING & LAND WAS IN SIGHT! -Raj
Intriguing thoughts avian drifting...you use the pigeon symbol very effectively there...between the past and the present, amidst changing environments bathed in the sporadic raining new life styles where do we stand? fit unfit misfit? nice theme nice delberation... Those pigeons there...do you feed them, Mamta or are they feeding you nice on your poetics? 10
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