The Waiting Day
On Hearing an Early Morning Raga at Apollo Hospital, Chennai.
the quiet pad of fingers
on a drum
Still fatigued, I wake at first light. The television is running. Perhaps you were watching it. Your pallet is empty, near my bed. Did you tiptoe off to catch an auto rickshaw? Scrounge a dosai and some chai?
The day is waking, accompanied by an early morning raga.
a feathered choir
. . . dawn sky
As I float drowsily, the drone glissades through my room. On the screen, waking blooms stretch dewy petals as the alapana unfolds.
Is life is a raga, beginning slowly, finishing quickly? If so, I've been given a reprieve. Each note inhaled vibrates a blessing from Guruguha, the great master of healing. The pain has drifted off. My lungs are clear. The Ganga banks are far away . . .
in dawn's cadence
. . . the poet saints
Not Very Quiet 4, March 2019.