by M.Mohankumar
Disenchantment
As the young man walks jauntily into the bistro,
a face at the far end of the hall catches his eye.
He stands transfixed, as if entranced by a vision.
A line from a famous poem flashes across his mind:
‘Euclid alone might have looked on Beauty bare.’
But here, right in front, he thinks, is beauty
unblemished, in flesh and blood. A face that
Ravi Varma would have loved to paint. Still dazed,
he moves ahead, his eyes fixed on the face. And,
getting close, steps back, wondering whether
it is the same face that drew him on, this face
marred by angularities and asymmetries. ’Surely,
it is the light and shade,’ he tells himself,
‘and the distance, playing tricks on my eyes.’
Sorceress
The witchery of your eyes
The charm of your smile
The spell of your voice
The secrecy of your heart
O Sorceress
why are you so unkind?
