A dark room ( for Ka-Dhiren)

The sun was above heads
With its light tearing the different shades
Of green of the summer trees

A dark room!

His clothes hanging behind the door,
An exit to step on the slippery floor.
He dropped himself
Upon his old companion
Bed and pillow

Piled up newspaper in a corner
An old wooden guitar humming a tune
Without a guitarist
A shelf filled with books

Among it, ones that stood out
Were James Baldwin
And poems on Lenin.

Upon the shelf
A black and white photograph
Of his 15 years old love

Who somewhere in South Korea
Sailing backward in time
In search of a signature
Of early universe

What had he in common
With the painting
Hanging on his wall?

A painting,
Something to do
With the painter's mother

Which I heard the painter lost
When the strokes of his brush
Were not so strong.

Not so dark to see his hands
Stretching out in his sleep
To find his distant love.

His spectacles needed to dust
He hardly used it to look
At the far away hushes
Of her lips that moves in silence

Once I overheard him
Saying he doesn't really agree
With the meaning of sacrifice

But a soul, which sacrifices, is his.
He often reminds me of Hemmingway
When we talk of drinks

Darker the room gets
The more it becomes vivid
Like a first dawn
Seen by the prisoners after ages

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