A Lunatic Lady
In the harvested field near the canal,
she roams with a mind slid from its rail.
Her muddy skirt and brownish hairs
flutter in the salty wind like flags of insanity.
A lonely night – the west wind smells the burnt canal fish.
Fire burns like her emotions on the bank.
“During the windy season, lunacy’s let loose” – her shrieks
and shouts are neglected in the rural logic a night.
As her stomach swells like a ball day by day,
many questions bulge out.
First printed in my book, 'Moonlight and Solitude'(Raspberry Books, India).
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