Condemned bondage

(From my poetry collection 'The Nameless Avenue') 

Liberation

August wind is always busy,

howling at window panes

banging the doors and

bellowing over the roofs

of docile and dreamy Velato

checking the progress of the

ox-driven oil mill,

owned by the native doctor

wider mouthed  smile of  cunning.

         He makes a living by hiring

         the mill and selling cures,

         and delighted in delving

         the mysteries of life with

         the neighboring barber,

         in gloomy afternoons, when

         they both miss customers.

They bother often too much over

the liberation of soul;

stealing a little liberty from the chat,

the barber would dare to

suggest on unyoking the tiresome oxen

for their drag went longer.

      The doctor pretending deaf

      pinpoints him the significance of

      missing liberation of soul 

      leads to condemned bondage;

      as a pinch of snuff entering his nostrils 

      brightening his eyes and mood

      until a customer calls on the barber.

He would wait for the barber’s

return, wondering

how busy the August wind

blows over Velato

and how tenacious the bulls are!

 Vaiyavan