The Hunt Sikar


Sky, the soft blue of grasshopper's belly.

Guava and custard apple trees all around, green as parrot feathers.

A single star lingers in the

Like the most twilight-intoxicated girl in some village bridal chamberor that pearl from her bosom the Egyptian dipped into my glass

Nile-blue wineone night some thousands of years ago-Just so, in the sky shines a single star.

To warm their bodies through the cold night, up-country menials kepta fire

In the field-red fire like a cockscomb blossom,

Still burning, contorting dry aswattha leaves.

Its color in the light of the sun is no longer like

But has become like wan desires of a sickly salik bird's heart.

In the morning's light both sky and surrounding dewy forest sparklelike iridescent peacock wings.


All night long a sleek brown buck, bounding from sundari througharjun

In starless, mahogany darkness, avoids the cheetah's grasp.

He had been waiting for this dawn.

Down he came in its glow,

Ripping, munching fragrant grass, green as green grapefruit.

Down he came to the river's stinging, tingling ripples,

To instill his sleepless, weary, bewildered body with the current'sdrive,

To feel a thrill like that of dawn bursting through the cold and wizenedwomb of

To wake like gold sun-spears beneath this blue

Dazzle doe after doe with beauty, boldness, desire.

A strange sound.

The river's water red like macaka flower petals.

Again the fire crackled-red venison served warm.

Many an old dew-dampened yarn, while seated on a bed of grassbeneath the stars.

Cigarette smoke.

Several human heads, hair neatly parted.

Guns here and there.

Icy, calm, guiltless sleep.

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