The beholder

Above the curves winding up

Where the large trees stop growing

The golden yellow leaves leftunruffled by the wind.

Mist descends while tea is boiling.

Fried, roasted; smells the air

Tangy sauce on olives from oven.

Songs, noise unlimited.

He watched it all

With eyes never met by other eyes.

Nobody saw him ever.

Amidst the dance and music

Men and women did not hearNight’s faint cry for life.

The mud was patted back to sleep

He saw it with his green eyes

And hid in his grey coat

Wearing a mask of silence.

Nobody saw him ever.

Woods, river, fragrant white flowers

The ghats snoredwith the streams, their stories

Washed, the wrong of the knife drowned

Now corrected.

Memories may live or not.

Up like a rod, agreeing,

A grey fur tail moved away.

Mist thickened; wild murmurs not lost

Embers tried to sleep

Smoking, the night waited for the dawn.

A quick dash; into the darknessOf the undergrowth.

Morning wore golden dew drops

On the blades of grass

That hides the night’s secrets

And marks made by muddy paws.

A jeep rumbling uphill

A red light on top

Warming the lazy courtyard

He closed his eyes tight.

He had seen nothing

Nobody saw him ever.

Quiet remain the mountains

Dead, the valleys below

More or less the world is the same.

Stains, marks on the grass

Licked up, erased and dried.

The mystic cat was gone

Leaving short harsh purr,

Covering unfound answers

The buried recent, as always.

inspired by…/indias-mysterious…/

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