(at Indira Gandhi National Center for Arts)
I was sitting under a Vata tree
With a cup of tea, it was free.
I was not feeling like going inside
To see the exhibition, I lost appetite.
The ladies come and go, with chips,
kurkure or Lays
Talking about someone, she was student of
Ramkinkar Baij
Seeds were falling from the tree
One by one
Drop by drop
An ‘untitled’ winged bug
Falling on the ground
Was suffering
Being upside down
Its tiny wings were flapping and making
some noise
LET us sit a while then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the
sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
One can disturb the world
Doing nothing
Just sitting beneath the Vata tree
And listening to the unison of the falling
seeds
Do I dare?
Do I dare?
To prove myself not but a Corpse,
Prufrock, do I dare to count the drops?
[Perhaps
in March 2012, I was sitting in front of the twin Art Gallery, IGNCA, and write
something. A huge tree was there who became a character in it. Yesterday I saw
the tree was not there. Renovations were taking place. So remembered it again
and felt sharing the writing.] August 5, 2014
