I yearn to go to Bijni:
Where joy corresponds to an open sky
Dotted with fleeting clouds
Leaving a trail of pink dye
Where the leaves dance and sway
As a nostalgic gush of wind
Knocks every being on its way.
The vast stretches of sky ends
At the sea of mustards and paddy
The skittling breeze drenches you
In an unrecoverable serendipity.
The slanty, criss-crossed grills don’t block
When the sun pecks my cheeks.
And that’s why:
I yearn to leave the city
And dispose here my body
Because when the evening breeze strikes me
It carries my soul to Bijni.