You will never tell me, will you,
What blessings you sought,
What silent wishes,
Hands folded in prayers yesterday
In the Sacred Grove of our delusions.
You merely smiled.
The peacock spread its plumes
And danced for me.
A whole constellation of stars
Oh, our star-crossed love!
This is something I wrote when I was around the age of 20. I looked it up from an old notebook this morning when a beautiful poem by Binu, a fine young poet in our circle, reminded me of the old days. It is a continuum all the way. Nothing has changed. I am posting it here without editing it, deleting not even expressions such as 'delusions' and 'star-crossed love,' which I would have rather avoided now.