Poems by Dr. Santosh Bakaya

Poems by Dr. Santosh Bakaya



You spoke not a word.
You let your eyes do the talking.
[Ah, how they talked, locked with mine].
You sang no melody, but the notes
of the low and treble of your heart,
I could hear that day.
So clearly. So poignantly.
Did the boatman hear them too?
Why did he stop rowing his boat
and watched furtively as you flicked
a dust mote from my face?
The night discreetly covered itself
by a throbbing, pulsating darkness.
And you kept mum, letting your eyes do the talking.
[How they talked, locked with mine]



It felt as though clouds were swearing and cursing
clearing their throats, last night.
Guffawing in sonorous might
monsters crouched, swaying as though drunk, last night.

Then completely exhausted, slumped on a tree trunk
turning in, like me, last night.
I got up groggily in the wee hours.
From the patio of my snug cottage I watched
the waves of the river thrashing the rocks
In the Eastern horizon, there was a yawning abyss
Red –hot edges of clouds, disheveled and unkempt
Ah, I beamed , ecstatic , as an unending expanse
slowly unfolded ,pierced with the golden darts of dawn.
Ah, there was a steaming mug of coffee on the table.
The turbulent night just gone, now looked like a mere fable.



Holding on to a piece of rusk
she stood on the road as the traffic light turned red
Clutching her baby brother, colicky.
Looking at a man, as he parked his limousine, brand new .
The overpowering fragrance of musk
wafted across from the car.
“These beggars! They raise my heckles”,
the voice of the man
attired in an expensive suit was brusque.
“ I am not a beggar”, remarked the teen to the man
Flaunting his limousine, brand new.

“Do you think I want your money?” She snorted too.
“I am poor, just as you are rich,” she said, as if on cue.
“I don’t want your money, I was just crossing the road.”
She remarked in one emotional spurt, to the man curt.
And in four quick strides crossed the road to her shack
behind a cluster of sprawling mansions.
The traffic had started crawling,
the topsy- turvy world moved on.
The lordly man in the limousine, brand new
gaped at her back, defrauded.


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