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Mehendi Artist

Advent of January
When the Empress winter is in her full form,
When with her invisible magic wand
She wraps the hills and the northern plains with a bone chilling wave,
With a cold ringed circle of deadly fog.
When even a cock won't sing its customary alarm song
Or a bird would chirp before it's long past dawn.
Two blank eyes were glued one evening on a small cardboard.
His glare was fixed on a small pole outside a grocery stall.
Lost to the world
Both his poor, bare hands were busy with a Mehendi keep filling the colours devotionally in the visage of the Goddess Durga, an epitome of power and strength.
Majestic were his strokes while giving shape to the Deity's eyes.
But then why that Mehendi artist was all drained out?
Why and what was tormenting his dampened soul?
The weekly vegetable market around him had hauled the reluctant inhabitants out of their snugged abodes.
While all were busy stuffing green, leafy, fresh veggies in their vivid,lively bags and sacks.
Why he had no hurry?
"Doesn't he have liability of a few hungry bellies on his ever dipping back?"
'Mehendi Artist', A little girl looking expectantly  at her tiny palm cooed 
While being held by her father's strong hand.
For her little self Mehendi artist who is worthless in his own and many's foresight was no less than Picasso.
Blind and deaf to the hustle and bustle of the world around he then carved brows of the Benign Goddess.
Skin of his palms had long lost its human hue.
Not only his palms but his clothes were also decked with the permanent mehendi stains,
Stains which were witness of efforts he had taken with extreme pains to embellish the countless beautiful ,young , bridal palms.
But is his hardwork getting its due?
Except for the Karva and the wedding season for rest of the year in order to smile he has no reason.
Since that's the only time when he can fill his little pantry and kitchen.
Soon dusk overpowered making everything look dismal and dark.
His hands were still moving on the cardboard as if with dignity and a spark adding now colours on the tresses of the Divinity.....

Comments

  1. A very humane ,considerate and compassionate outlook for those who go unnoticed by a common mam.Fabulous poetry

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beautiful poem on a struggler
    about whom no poet might have thought of writing . Beautifully written in superb style.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Explicit description decorated with humane sensibility.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Nice lines ... one can easily visualise beautiful scene 👍🏻👍🏻

    ReplyDelete

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