More of Tagore’s Chitra in jeans
I am no Shakuntala amidst the vines.
Goddess Klutz who cries on a whim,
I cut the bough on which I perch.
Feminine grace eludes me,
galloping horses enchant me more.
A ring in gold with a diamond set
sends me packing to the next planet.
I refuse to be your “fairer” friend
for I am not fair and more a foe.
Thoughts and talks over endless tea,
in dirty pyjamas are more my style.
Sunshine and flowers, children and play
I love them with a passion you’d never know;
Love me and my hearts are yours,
(Yes, I have many hearts, didn’t you know?).