always hungry fro conversation
the lady sits with a smile on her lips
a glint of joy in her eyes
the lips never pursed, the joy seldom cursed
constant consternation keeps her moist tears at bay
along comes a photographer,
she poses with her tiffin boxes and water bottle
the cliched touche corners of her existence,
now framed in a frayed corner of the vast memory of the phone
she chats with a reporter in her native language
they talk, share meals and water
their eyes exchange looks
a news of a colleague long forgotten
a khabar from a celebrity from their part of the city
she is alive and chatty
full of conversation, life and laughter
her clothes, light, cotton-y fabrics
saving her from the sun and tan
her smile and effervescent eyes
full of motion and commotion
she is untamed yet not wild
she is chatty yet not talkative
all talk is not exchange
all exchange does not come from a place of depth
equanimity in place of chatter
she jumbles the rules up at times
she sniggers and seethes
she pushes back too
the days they comes off and the night dip in the callow quiet
she resides and restraints and recoils into anger
but rage does not protect her
she resides in quiet and solemn pace and bird-like steps
the feathers her support,
the listless squalour her comfort
she rests, yet rest does not touch her