With my spirit elsewhere,
I prepare breakfast.
The idli pot works without water.
So do the broth.
The water evaporates.
The pot and pan burn
I sit unmoved.
The children
hasten to the kitchen.
Pperceive the situation,
the pot and the pan blackened,
the food charred,
the burner glows red hot.
I stay untouched.
One puts off the stove,
the other removes the vessels,
the youngest throws open the doorway.
They are bewildered,
perhaps, feel I am brain–dead.
My physique is perfect.
I remain unmoved.
I remain unmoved.
They call me, rock me vigorously,
carry me to the bed, make me relax,
No effect. They surround me.
My eyes draw a blank.
I remain static.
Soon, I fall asleep. It is their turn
They hold on uneasily.
I remain static.
Soon, I fall asleep. It is their turn
They hold on uneasily.
Meenas Poems 