By adi (Adithya Patil)
Payments
“money?” i ask my mother.
.
“it’s something you pay with, child”, she says
in the usual tone of infinite patience.
“those cars you have, this thomas train,
we pay for these, understand?”
.
i blink, then slowly nod
.
into the classroom, where i
suddenly stir myself from dream.
ms.akira is pointing her chalk at me.
the classroom is in hysterias.
.
“CONCENTRATE! CHILD!! PAY ATTENTION!!”
.
oh, leave me alone. please, let me go.
i’m only a child, so poor;
i cannot even fumble
my heart for attention.
.
A Day In Kashmir
.
Tuesday. At the garden.
You pick tulips.
Orange like dusk.
Nostrils inhale.
Scent of freedom.
Srinagar shrinks within.
Petaled walls.
Somewhere.
Sound of drilling.
Distant. Banal.
You raise the flower.
The sky halts.
Tulip smells.
Suddenly cold.
Copper. Sanguine.
Sound of drilling.
Now louder.
Blink twice.
Stop. Listen.
Now read slowly:
These are not lands of construction.
.
adi or Adithya Patil is a student based in Bangalore, India. He was a recipient of the Times Scholars Programme 2019. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in different journals including Scarlett Leaf Review, The Drabble and Literary Yard.
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