Page 49 - Sanidhya_2024

AN ODE TO THE HANDS AT A RAILWAY STATION

Blessed be the idle left hand on the waist,
Blessed be the other hand that hooks a capricious bag or two.

Blessed be the precipitate hands of porters,
Blessed be their animated dealings with the heaviness of things.

Blessed be the hands that swat a fly and miss, Faiz Ahmed,
Blessed be the pendulous hands that almost never collide. S/o Shri Zaki Ahmed,IG (Adm) Dte.

Blessed be the clasped hands that rest a chin,
Blessed be the common-sensical hands, difficult to disprove.

Blessed be the ardent hands of chai-wallahs,
Blessed be the V-bent hands that balance trays of soggy delights.

Blessed be the hands that fix a drooping saree-fold,
Blessed be the practical hands that foresee all the latter needs.

Blessed be the extravagant hands of newly-weds,
Blessed be the clapping hands that lull the baby into a lower howl.

Blessed be the hands that wait in a pocket’s dark,
Blessed be the raised hands that raise a lantern at fixed intervals,

Blessed be the gnarled hands of silver-haired ones,
Blessed be their limp dangle to the sides, chipped away by air.

Blessed be the soiled hands that nibble along the tracks,
Blessed be their hunt for flung bottles, cans and chance treasures.

Blessed be the simple hands that wave and wave,
Blessed be the viscous hands that linger long after the trains have left.

Blessed be the faltering hands that forget to wipe
a widening tear, that like a cloth-bag, suddenly rips under the weight

of all the approximate belongings it can no longer bear.