Usha Kishore
At the Supermarket
She walks towards me
in her peacock-blue sari,
dreaming in chikankari…
Her diamond nose ring
reflects a spectrum of
colours, dyed in light…
Staring across the seas,
her dark-brown eyes
line me with kajal…
Her smooth, dark skin -
a relief to an exiled
heart, breathing in mists…
She might even speak
my language - its music
waiting to spill…
She stops at my side and
stares profoundly at a
crate of pomegranates…
Our eyes meet, in spite
of my attempts to
look away - I want
to speak - but some
strange English reserve
comes in between …
Too late to avoid
contact now - words
are not needed, here -
We are both from the
same Shangri-La:
we communicate in
the vibrant hues of smiles…
Page(s) 144-145
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