Give me a Garden.



The money plant hangs in a tangled mess

from a bottle above the Fridge.

the coleus, red, green and magenta

smug in a porcelain pot

near the television set,

baskets of ferns and some crotons too,

or the stout rubber plant

in the far end of the room.

All pretentious in the spaciousness

of my second floor flat

from where I look down on tops of buses

and bald pates of men.

Give me any day the majestic palm

and a neem tree or two dropping fruits

green or yellow, bitter and small.

The hibiscus at the gate

resplendent in red and glory

or the Bangalore roses

flourishing despite the Madras clime.

Give me a garden

where I can romp and play and let of steam

with the butterfly squirrel and crow,

with the gravel crunching below my feet

and the cool wind in my face.


Published in Youthink-Indian Express. 26-3-1986.


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