SANTOSH BAKAYA

 

SANTOSH BAKAYA

The Makeover 

I sit on a bench in the park,

my eyes refusing to leave the wall fronting me

bulging and sagging with the damp of myriad winters-

moss- covered, and aging.

The sun does not crinkle its nose at it,

but its rays swathe it in a loving warmth

and the dragon fly sunbathes, perched blissfully on it,

unfazed by its crumbling and decrepit look.

A tendril of grass peeps

through the intricate map of cracks and fissures adorning it.

The wall is drenched in the resplendence of love, and basks in this

makeover.

I watch transfixed.

 

 

Bedazzled 

Incarcerated humanity, relentlessly washes hands,

hoping for better days, masked and sanitized.

Meanwhile the October sun dazzles the world

painting it in new hues of hope, unadulterated.

There is pollution everywhere,

but a flower smiles bravely and a sun- kissed creeper

infuses a new vigour in the surroundings,

rustling and silently singing songs of hope.

 

This parallel world throbs and pulsates

with a new excitement,

which we- the caged, we- the shackled

seem to have forgotten in our ill- gotten arrogance.

A grasshopper hops from stem to stem,

a chaffinch flies from branch to branch,

carrying a twig in its beak-

a twig which encapsulates infinite possibilities.

Endless hope of new beginnings.

 

It infuses a new life into exhausted hearts,

a new hope in hands tired from washing – relentlessly washing.

I look wistfully at the cobalt blue vase on the mantelpiece.

Lo and behold, a sudden fragrance seems to erupt from the empty vase,

making me emit a cheerful, sanguine chuckle.

I resolve not to buckle down under the pernicious times.

Good times are just round the corner. Why fret?

 

 

Another Orange-Streaked Dawn

 

The sun was sinking below the horizon,

and twilight soon spread its mantle,

the stars slowly crept out of their lairs,

twinkling with a conspiratorial air.

The night vibrated with myriad sounds.

A cheeky owl merged its hoots with the cicadas’ chirps,

fluttering through the boughs of trees; it was playtime.

Dreams too fluttered, muttering in an esoteric language,

craving to be decoded.

 

Morning came with its own music,

the amazing stalks of maize swayed,

as though half-crazed with joy,

the birds slowly removed sleep kinks from their eyes,

trying to jerk the world out of its languor.

A blush spread across the sky,

the birds’ excitement peaked, they applauded themselves,

for having given birth to a new dawn- orange streaked.

 

SANTOSH BAKAYA

 

Dr. SANTOSH BAKAYA Academic, poet, novelist, essayist, TEDx speaker, Dr. Santosh Bakaya, winner of the International Reuel Award for literature for her long poem, Oh Hark! [2014] has been critically acclaimed for her poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Ballad of Bapu [Vitasta, 2015] Recipient of The Universal Inspirational Poet Award [ 2016 ] instituted by Pentasi B Friendship Poetry and Ghana Government, she has also received the Bharat Nirman Award for literary Excellence[ 2017] Setu Award, 2018,  [Pittsburgh, USA] ‘in recognition of a stellar contribution to world literature.’ The first Keshav Malik award 2019 ‘for her entire staggeringly prolific and quality conscious oeuvre’. Her TEDxTalk on The Myth of Writers' Block is very popular in creative writing classes. She runs a very popular column, Morning Meanderings in Learning and Creativity