Break of day

The night debates
With dawn
It it’s time yet
To let
The morning sun
Paint the sky red
The impetuous sun
Thrusts his
Impatient head
Between the night
And dawn’s argument
And with wild abandon
Flings hues of gold
Saffron and pink
In the sky
Shades of green
On trees
On blades of grass
Daubs of magenta
Bright red, yellow, purple
On flowers
Rivers, streams, oceans
Of blue hues
Splashes of burnt ochre
Brown, russet, bronze, earth
He flings, he blends, he smears
All over his canvas
Spread across vast vistas
Of another – Break of day

-by Rita Putatunda

The Songless Guitar and the Flower

The songless guitar on a far star said to the flower

(Growing in the earth of another world)

A stranger you are, O Flower, yet nearer to me than any love

I wonder with wondering heart

Can ever you and I, come together

You so far away, in your distant world

Blooming fragrantly, radiantly

I, alone, in this desolate land

A songless guitar

There you are, O Flower, with a question unspoken on your lips

And here am I, a songless guitar, a question hidden in my silent strings

We stand facing each other – Worlds apart, Worlds apart

I know with the knowledge of the knowing heart

Whatever I can give you, Whatever I can offer you

With both arms outstretched, Will be less than it should be

If I offer you a song, a song loses its meaning

With time falls silent – falls silent

If I offer you a poem, written with the tender petals of my heart

Petals fade and wither, Poems get lost,

Hearts stop beating, in the dusty pages of lost time – lost time

And time itself, Crumples into the dust – into the dust

There you are, O Flower, with a question unspoken on your lips

And here I am, a songless guitar, a question hidden in my silent strings

We stand facing each other – Worlds apart, Worlds apart

-by Rita Putatunda

Lost for Words

Lost for words. Those trusty companions. That stood by me. In all my times. In the times I laughed. In the times I cried. In the times I needed to fight. In the times I needed to love. They were always ready. To do my bidding. But now. When I read your words.  I am lost for words.

Your words. That shower like flower petals. Your words. That cascade like the monsoon rain. Your words. That glimmer like silver moonbeams. Your words. That render me. Speechless. I am lost for words.

Where have they all gone. I seek with fever in my soul. I seek with tremble in my heart. To put pieces of my heart. Into words. Steady, Steady. My mind says. But how can I steady. This boat. Caught in this storm. Of your words. I am lost for words.

Where have they all gone. My old friends. My familiar companions. That came tumbling out. To do my bidding. Rapier sharp. Witty. Clever. My words. But now. When I read your words. I am left without words.

I am suspended between the sky and earth. Flailing my limbs. I try to become a bird. Flapping my tattered wings. I try to soar. I seek in the clouds. I search for answers. In the trees below. A river flows like a silver thread. My eyes follow. Searching. Seeking. In vain. I am left without words.

I reach inside. The womb of Time. The old. Is a distant memory. I feel new life. Stirring. Surging. Throbbing. Half revealed revelations. That have no words. It seems I have to relearn. It seems I have to re-dream. The language of Life. I am lost for words.

The slate is wiped clean. I trace new words. New memories. With a hesitant heart. The halting alphabets. The faltering phrase. The stumbling sentence. Get caught again. In your words. Over and over. I am lost for words.

-by Rita Putatunda

the apple

the apple doesn't know it
but there is a worm
secretly burrowing inside
secretly destroying
the flavour
in its soft white pulp

the apple doesn't know it
it continues to glow bright red
in the green leafed
golden sun

First Monsoon Rain

The Sky’s face darkens

The mighty Rain God arrives

Charging on his great chariot

Of billowing clouds

Steered by his charioteer

The tempestuous Wind God

The Sun God runs for cover

Hiding his face behind grey swathes

The Wind God kicks up puffs and gusts

Of dust, bits of trash, fallen leaves

The clouds grow heavier, The wind blows harder

Curtains on windows flip flap

The wash on clotheslines flail and lash

Trees sway, branches thrash, a twig snaps

A door somewhere slams – Bang!

The Rain God hurls a lightning stab

Which jags through the sky and jabs

The cowering earth

A whip of thunder cracks

Pigeons break into a cloud of flap flap

Fat pellets of rain pelt and spatter

The grass flattens and drowns

The mud melts and runs brown

In rivulets - on hills, fields, streets

Where the roadside tea seller sits

Under his tattered tin roof

Selling glasses of steaming hot brew

Buses, cars, rikshas, scooters plunge

Through pools of mud

Spattering scurrying people

Drenched cows, shivering dogs

A sodden crow calls caw-caw

The heady smell of wet earth

Mingles with the fumes of petrol

Rotting garbage and new green leaves

My eyes fly into the clouds

A bird breaking free

My wings spread wide

And in my cupped heart

I gather drops of 
The first Monsoon Rain

Dancing with the breeze

I walk down the road

Of my neighbourhood

Passing by squatting

Vegetable and fruit vendors

Huddled under bright yellow and blue

Plastic tarpaulins

An old mochi piecing together

Tattered old leather chapplas

The row of rickshas

The drivers chewing paan

Spitting the bright red juice

On the wet footpath

Chatting and looking at me expectantly

A sudden scooter

Darting by with a sharp beep

Cars swishing by

Spattering the mud brown

Rain water –

I walk along

Sniffing the rain, feeling the breeze

Caressing my face

I come to an open expanse

And breathe the day in --

The clouds in the sky

The trees shedding droplets --

I throw my head back

And there..In the clouds

I see a bird

Dancing with the breeze –

A grey and white bird

With a long tail

Streaming behind

Jauntily tossing about

In the grey grey sky –

I watch it for a while

And turn around

To walk back home

A sudden jaunty spring

Giving wings to my step
My heart
Dancing with the breeze

-by Rita Putatunda

What Pigeons Do

Have you seen
How pigeons do
Their Number Two?

Around they turn, atop their ledge
Pop their tails right out the edge
And with practiced ease the evil bird
Will squirt its poop right on your head.

-by Rita Putatunda