An Afternoon At A Dargaha In Kashmir

I see nimble fingers
entwined in a dance-like tongues of lovers,
as knot by knot they weave threads
doused in vibrant colours.

The old woman
with dangling earrings and breasts,
talks to you so brazenly,
grumbling about everything
that was there in the today’s newspaper.

I sit cross legged in the corner,
while weighed by layers of embroidered silk
you calmly sleep.

As my eyes play
with unending patterns on the carpet,
I hear the thump of the loom in the past.

I see nimble fingers
entwined in a dance-like tongues of lovers,
as knot by knot they weave threads
doused in vibrant colours.

The grumbling of the old woman;
the sound of the loom,
the thought of the old fingers and weary eyes,
turns this unhurried afternoon
in an apparition
and I finally hear the sermon of your calm sleep.

While outside, the occasional flutter of pigeons,
breaks the solemn silence,
who afflicted with abundance,
respond to the showering corn,
rising and falling on the same uneven stone floor.

About the Author

Vivek Chib ( 9 Posts)

Vivek Chib is a practising advocate in New Delhi
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