Happiness is...: A poem by Anju Kishore

...finding rickshaws as if they were charmed
By a flourish of your guardian angel's wand,
Weaving through traffic that did not choke you for once
And ticking off to-do chores one by one.

Happiness is when you stop at the roadside vendor
To sip slowly and deeply, a tender coconut's nectar.
A little soft, a little hard is a pulp inside
That leaves you untwined after jolting rickshaw rides

Quenched, you turn benevolently to hop into another rattler
Only to be arrested by a look of abject hunger.
Those unhappy  eyes, that outstretched hand
Like they were denied all the things you've had.

The rags clutching the skin as if terrified of crumbling
Speak of a wretched shanty and penniless kin.
You turn back to the vendor of happiness-sips
And ask for the best from his happy heap.

As you lower the treat into the skeletal hands
Your heart pulls taut and reverts like a rubber band.
The shriveled face dissolves into a joyous smile
With the happiness that a little money could buy.

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