A blank sheet of paper
Waiting for words
Has the writer look up for inspiration
The farmer sitting on the edge of his field
Looks up and prays
We look up in exasperation
Or dismay
Or to beseech
Or put forth a point
We look up and look into eyes
To search
To buy time
To influence
And when they get what they want, they say
Nothing
And go on with their lives
As if looking up was a part of their daily acts.
Yes, we look up
With our own form of expectation
And this is why
When I look up
And a raindrop makes a splashy entry
On my lips, I too say
Nothing
But go zipping through time
And meet you once again
The time when you looked up
And a raindrop fell and perched precariously on your lips
A nice fat vacillating raindrop that reflected all the glory
That didn’t want to shatter
And I hurriedly wrote ‘love’ on a hundred rupee note
And let the raindrop live
As a smudged symbol of our togetherness.
Arvind Passey
Written on 25 August 2014
