While I waited for the bus
amidst a hundred people
and deafening horns all around
there stood a man beside me,
a dark skinned old man,
a corn vendor,
busy boiling the corns
on the stove in his cart.
Later, standing in the bus
I saw another man in the street,
again an old man
with unsteady, drunken steps
trying to enter a shopping mall -
surely in his drunkenness -
and being blocked by the security guard.
Still in the bus
still not getting a seat to sit
I saw the moon -
an almost full, bright, moon -
in its cool, refreshing, whiteness
through the glass window
just beneath the roof.
After I got down from the bus
waiting for the traffic signal to turn green
there was a blind old woman
standing a few steps away from me
moving her stick
up and down,
up and down,
for God knows what.
These were some images painted by
the night of 21st January 2011
in a Bangalore canvas.
I wonder
why is it that only some images,
only these images,
leave an impression
while the rest of the images
that same night had painted
are forgotten as if I never saw them.
