Supper at Hotel Rajesh … by the window …

By the pane, behind the pillar,
Away and near, a forgotten ghost.
With the usual thali, the usual waiter,
Rupees the same for the same minutes.

You might be away,
But your cheek rests against me,
And the hair still…

A couple, traditional, certainly wed,
Hand in hand, maybe they know why;
An afterthought or aftermath
Or strangely close or foreplay?

A fight below, close to the paan-wallah
With stained fingers ready with the half-pack.
The fight, the young, so shamelessly alive.
After drowning Ganapathy? Now, what?

A mother nearby feeding her child,
In everyone’s way - but not so, they say;
She glances at the kind gentlemen,
Her brother unconcerned – with reflections.

Outside, a mother guides her daughter,
From the youth, from any hand, for later.
A couple again, apart – is it the same –
No, there is merely a child in between.

The meal’s over, the time’s up,
Leaving ghosts for what’s left to look.

You might be away,
But your cheek rests against me,
And the hair still…