kahan gaya hai
mere shehar ke
musafir tu~
was not what i hummed
while i waited in my
green-polka-dotted-hello-kitty frock
at the gates
for the balloonwala
on evenings
afterschool
restlessly plucking from the gated iron
frails of the orange-pinkish bougainvillea


now
while the monsoon clouds gather
sitting by the grilled glass window
humming ali's musafir
i muse myself
in your absence
thinking of
how at the first sight of his silhouette
and the silhouetted balloons
pinned to the poled rectangle
resting on his shoulder
i ran not to the balloonwala
but to my mother
to pull her by her hand
out of the bamboo chair
and drag her out of the verandah
till the bougainvillea spread
to rejoice with me
his arrival.

***

The monsoon clouds thicken~
deewana hua badal