A morning must bring a poem

A morning must bring a poem

along with the sun

and a night must end with a story.

My grandfather used to say this.

The day he went in search of a pond

inside the bright fullmoon,

stories inside me

oozed out from the pores of my skin

and poems dissolved

in my tears.

For many days and nights,

I roamed this mortal earth

like the cursed son of Drona-

a guilty warrior,

devoid of any pain or pleasure.

When I returned,

I saw a tuberose in his garden

spreading wings every night

to reach the periodic moon,

perfuming my heart.

Contented and tireless in its efforts.

Night watches tuberose's ascent

to embrace a distant dream

and the morning bee hums

love drenched sweet songs.

This morning,

after years of musing,

I felt:

I must bring you a poem

to tell the story of a tuberose

in the garden of my grandfather.

Rajnigandha / Raat ki raani / tuberose