We three, the milder versions
of our older siblings, keep
close to each other.
Once playing in the lawns
of our house in a hill station,
perceive two figures trotting.
could not make out from a distance,
we cling to each other, what could it be?
each one of us come with interpretations,.
The youngest, too small, knows
to talk few words, cries “tiger, tiger”,
nudging close to me.
the other one whispers,
” no. it is a ghost”, being
the big sister, I turn responsible
calm them down, while
my heart flutters with fear. Again,
we hear the sound of the hoofs
coming towards us. Holding our breath
we stand still staring at the direction.
A deer and its fawn start running
seeing us. negotiate elegantly
through the bends disappear
into the forest behind.
We go back home
devoid of fear, having transferred
ours to the mother and kid.
Meenas Poems 