Monday, 16 January 2012

LOVE WITH HAPPINESS


The making of cow dung fuel is another art,
It is easily available to household woven burn,
It is handmade for all who have coal fire woven.

She walks with cow dung paste in a bamboo container,
And sits beside her husband who is sitting in the sun,
They are in good family bonds, a neighbor of my own.

She makes dough of small quantity of cow dung paste,
And hands over it to her husband who, in turn, makes
Flat cakes by thrusting it with one palm on ground,

And the shape of his palm is embossed on the flat fuel.
They are cultivators and original inhabitants of locality,
They work hard for their house hold needs, in companion.

They work together in own paddy field, he tilts the earth,
With cows’ help and she puts paddy saplings in the mud,
They grow paddy, to have rice for their own, not to sell.

This is a real family in my shadow of love search,
They call me as the man of gentleman fetish, clerical montage,
They have own wish, and keep balance of love themselves.

They feel love in their esteemed valor they generate own,
And I find they do not make fancies with reality, all loving,
Their hands are holding themselves, close all the time.

In festive seasons, they hold their hands, and
Dance in tune of beating of drums,
Whose sound floats in the surrounding area, they live in.

They need no wall to post their emotions to express feelings,
And transmit this walking for sharing with others friends,
Either near or far away, a post card is enough, now cell phones.

Sitting near window on the love search and love hope,
I see them walking, drawing water from ground well, together,
They bear no burden to carry paddy straw to shred these in pieces,

And give these to cows, tied in pole in their mud courtyard, where
They also cook food in the ground earthen oven with cow dung fuel,
And with firewood that comes from tree branches broken by storm.

They feel love in the morning,
They feel love in the evening,
They feel love in the night.

I am very happy to see their happy moments they sit idle
Under shadow of mango tree in summer season, in their garden,
Talking, smiling, and singing within each other’s bosom, sublime.  



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