It was a little late
in the afternoon,
when India woke up to see
the crescent moon,
in the courtyard of its
Rashtrapathiji….
Resplendent and sanguine
but clean shaven, and already
standing in line…
for a shake of hand
and a verbal toon
from our very own
king over the moon -
Resplendent and sanguine
bearded and waiting
at the head of the line.
Then…
As they sat down to dine,
with POK on the table
and IOK beneath,
The table topic was,
as most would expect,
neither sugary nor refined.
It certainly was
their error of terror;
and our terror of an error,
of what and how
to peacefully enshrine.
But nothing else mattered
When from afar,
the sound,
it shattered
the ears of peace
and submerged the elation
Of a cherished dream.
It’s then, we realized,
its an apparition created
by the flash of a photographer
And a shawl for his Mother…
A gesture returned
So our step motherly relationship
Might not ferment nor sour…..
