There is hardly any light here
Here, in this semi darkness
One is mistaken about
The time of day
The clock says it is past mid-day.
Outside, beyond, there is sunlight
Playing on the walls of the buildings
Lighting up the leaves of the Jamun tree
A shade of brighter green
The sky is greyish blue now
A few minutes back, it was
A shade bluer
Punctuated by soft cotton balls
Of vulnerable clouds.
Inside the room,
Behind the pale of the glass shutter
Sit I, writing my mind
In my red book,
Conversing with my own thoughts –
If I were somewhere where that tree
Or those houses are, I would
Be embarrassed at the
Sudden glare of light
I am content here,
In this little space
Of semi-darkness and
Of utter quietness.
Painting Courtesy: Slava Fokk
