This one is a piece inspired while I was traveling from Bengaluru to Kannur in Kerala.
A baby boy, whose mother was calling her Kaanhaa ... Kaanhaa, was the cynosure of my journey.
The boy was cherubic and chubby. Everytime his cheeks were cuddled and pinched, he cried aloud, as though telling them not to do it.
This, I imagined of someone - happening to her child ...
Penned By B D Narayankar
Hawa ki unglian jab khidkion se chann kar
Uske gaalon ko rizhaati hain rukk kar
Maine dekha hain uss nanhi si jaan ko shikayat karte
mujhe kehte: "Log badfaalian bhi karte hain, aur ..
Gaal chimat jaate hain naam mera pukar kar
Baz nahin aate rone ki cheek bhi nahin sun paate ..."
Ye nazara kisi apne ka yaad dila raha thaa
aur mein dil-o-dil muskura raha thaa taqiye tale!!!
English Translation
When the fingers of the wind
makes way through the windows of the train
I have seen the baby complaining, telling me:
"People do bad things on me, and -
call out my name by twitching my cheeks!
Alas! No cries of mine can they hear nor change their ways ...
This, made me imagine of someone ...
and I was smiling all the way, shoving my head below the pillow!!!!
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