Background to this Post

My hubby has an ongoing affair with vocal Carnatic Music and he was in the habit of taking lessons every Sunday and his music teacher in the course of the years moved from one state to another in New York vicinity but hubs being a loyal soul followed them from one residence to another. His music teachers were a lovely Iyengar couple.

They convinced me to take lessons with hubs as well. Hubs is a Bengali speaking Tamilian from Kerala And I am a Punjabi speaking north Indian who mostly heard gazals, and Hindi Punjabi Songs besides English of course. However, I bravely ventured into this terrirtory as well and the outcome was, after a few lessons it was mutually decided that I should cease with my dignity intact and everyone was happy. I made friends with the parents- mamaAnd mami and the only thing I suffered for a while to my mortification was a pair of very red thighs from beating hard on them for the thalam - smile

written prior  to 911 tragedy
THIS WAS WRITTEN ON WAY TO OUR MUSICAL RENDEZVOUS EVERY SUNDAY
EARLY MORNING RAIN OR SHINE OR SNOW  

Morning Journey (on way to Connecticut)

Touched by the golden rays of the rising sun

Gleaming bridges straddle shimmering waters

Ramrod sentinels heralding the dawn of a new day

Diamond crystal waters, laden with boats bright and saucy

Each vying to outdistance the other with gay flying pennants

The New York skyline is etched by the Statue of Liberty on one side

And the twin towers on the other, with stacks of nearby powerplant

Raising their heads like peeping toms while marble chip clouds

Float about in the blue sky bypassed by flying birds and airplanes

Munching on a bagel between sips of hot coffee, we drive past

A gaggle of early morning joggers in brief briefs with ears plugged

To keep the world out and the boxed music in, huffing puffing along

Insulated in their sweaty world of aching bodies and flying nikes

The bikers are in a world of their own wearing bright orange aprons

To ward off  accidents,   biking furiously with heads stuffed in helmets

Meanwhile the motorists are keen to outdistance all and sundry

So keeping one eye on the lookout for a hidden traffic cop, and the

Other on the chance to bypass the car in front to get sooner wherever they are headed but alas, the hurrier they go, the behinder they get with the

Great traffic lights acting as the equalisers and stemming their onslaught

We drive  along merrily, willy nilly passing all the racers and soon we reach

Our destination while the sun is still  off off midway   from its zenith and

The day is yet to be done.


originally published @
www.binaguptapoetry.com