A Poem of Rahul Pandita

Original in Hindi

Time does not hang
On trees for me,
It passes like a rope passes
Through a bull’s nose
Binding me

Even if I am still
Marching past my pulse
It still passes on

Carrying its subconscious
In a sack on its back,
To savor the sweetness of future
It still passes on

Once I ran fast after it,
Asking it to stop and stay
Under the trees of memories

Blinking its eyes it marched ahead,
Saying if it did stop,
My pen too would stop,
And only when it moved
‘Now’ became ‘yesterday’
Making my memories thundering in the skies
And passing them on into my pen

Time moved on
I turned back

Reaching far back,
I heard the skies thunder
And my pen moved on