Celluloid
Has ruined the beautiful concept
We call love.
A word of merely a syllable
Has been used perfunctorily
It has ruined its very meaning
Its very quintessence.
She looks at him
He looks at her
A chance meeting, that's all
The world stops
Music plays, soft
And they fall in 'love'.
Such temptation
Or maybe just a chance glance
Casually termed as 'love'.
I cannot help but sigh.
We may be the poster couple, Krishna
But who remembers us these days?
Concealed in the layers of the darkness of Kali
Who wants to
Understand love first
And not just feel it?
But I accredit them to one thing
I have found hopelessly romantic.
Subtle, yet romantic.
I find myself regretting,
To my own surprise
That the very tradition
Didn't exist in our times.
In all these millennia, Krishna
You've never sat on your knees for me
With a ring and roses.
YOU ARE READING
Radha's Krishna
PoetryRadhaRamana, The Beloved of Radha he is. He is everything, in everyone. He is sung, he is loved, he lives. But Radha? ______ Narrated in the voice of one of Hindu mythology's most powerful characters, Radha's Krishna is a collection of poems, an o...
