Memories are warm

On this cold night after we

Have warmed ourselves

We fall back on memories

Remember the silent valley

That spoke in rising mists

I was stung by a bee for

The first time in life 

Sitting by the window

At a vegetarian restaurant

Later we ran into a swarm

Locals asked us to duck

Till it swept over

Nature behaved itself 

For the rest of our time there

It did not show its other face,

If we had been around

Long enough like the residents 

The hills would have palled 

We remind ourselves 

As we surrender to sleep.

Kafka on the tree

Kafka is Czech for crow

I learn from the Murakami novel,

It is tempting to give our dark friend

From the neighbouring jamun tree

And demanding attention at odd hours

The Metamorphosis author's name;

These birds were once used on ships

To help sailors find their way to land

Hence their cry also denoted shore;

In Hindu mythology ancestors turn

Into Kafkas on days of remembrance

New myths are sought to be made

As actors seek to metamorphose

Into some avatar who like the black 

Cowherd-god can lead holy cows 

To pastures guarded by myth-busters