The Neem

April is the cruelest month,
I glean through my window of broken glass
The leaves whistled every morn, till yesterday
The branches happily fluttered
The melody of rustle filled my heart with exuberance
I savoured, the never-heard, heart- soothing symphony
I struggled to fathom the imperceptible
Yet, couldn’t decipher the pure ethereal mystery.
But could spy invisible soul wandering around stealthily
Like an aimless pedestrian roaming on busy Bombay streets.

Oh! How I revelled in this spectacle, till yesterday.
April is the cruelest month.
The lush green Neem leaves have turned yellow today.
They looked like a famished unfed beggar.
There blew a harsh wind
The heartless Neem jerked its branches with a gusto
Shedding green- turned – yellow leaves, en masse
Like genocide committed by a religious fanatic!

Tears dripped down onto my innocent cheeks
My heart bled with excruciating grief
For the falling anguished innocent leaves…
‘It is high time we left’,
Whispered the lonely pale wrinkled leaf
Into my benumbed ear, agonising in grief.

Age creeps in surreptitiously
We renunciate things amassed hitherto
Pelf and power, wealth and wisdom,
Name and fame, beauty and brain
None can save us from the flood of drain!
Friends turned foes, we forget and forgive
To the loved ones we say goodbye
To merge with greater Soul in the blue sky…

~ Dr. Anand Manapure

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