The institution merit borne
The air exudes seclusion-taken…
Those smiling loungers stare,
A polished-smooth dark rosary
Held by each busy lips quivering,
A rhythmical low grunt chanting,
Each bead rolled back to it.
A crumpled face bears what?
The blinding heatwave undulates
Over the pasture of dried bushes;
The bending coco fronds yellow-bleached,
Swaying fanning themselves desperately.
The busy lips lounge in vacant muse
The verandas shaded by mango trees;
The cool breezes fan intermittently
Monitoring their assignments continued.
I find the bath-room corner
A breathing one on a piece of rag
Lounging as it’s the place.
Like a charred log it lies;
A furless old dog in rashes
So severe but taken amid moans.
Nursed and taken in it belongs,
A caring hand reached it.
Taking the grey dust-matted road,
I leave visiting it again this time.
(After visiting Old People Home Mundgod Tibetan Settlement a couple of days back; the impression etched on my memory.)
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