Travel

Like a dash of lightening
On a monsoon hotbed
A flash of naked limbs converted
To eternity and rest

Not with the baggage
Of rickety buses and potholes
Red streaks in wind-blown brown hair
A naked breast held invitingly
For comfort suckles

Saunter alone
Through intricately woven threads
Of lost lanes
Where a blinking lazy eye
Lights up new bylanes

Alive, glittering thoughts
Of never before wondrous lands
Swimming invitingly
In molten memories of mothers
And old wives’ tales

In action, in present

(c) Shweta Taneja, July 2009