The Tweeting Haijin

 buddha moon this quiet heartbreak of losing a father to his ageing heart muscles flower moon this May breeze has no sense of romance secondhand moon hoping the flowers last one more pooja yellowing the puja flowers thrown away at moonset ripe yellow among the jack-leaves morning moon night three the moon and the flowers both wilted Published at Cafe Haiku on 14/05/2023 as part of a group writing effort for the 'Flower Moon'.

 Four sets of Haiku translated into Sanskrit (not perfect!): https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/14/abhyagata-palika/ https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/16/hasteh-chayayam-in-the-elephants-shadow/ https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/18/vasanta-gandham-spring-fragrance/ https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/05/20/garjana-dhwani-the-thunder/

 drinking up a mountain of ice tea — summer heat Holi advent… all the colours of the water guns neighbour’s plants — Amma’s acrobatics to water them potted plants — we redirect or neighbour’s A/C drip after last rites resealing the pot of gangajal summer forenoon sparrows turn our dog’s bowl into a bath (Published in Cafe Haiku on 04/04/2021 for the theme of "Water")

 cliffhanger I hope for yesterday’s dream again in the window what do you dream of mynah eyes evening breeze stooping to pick up yellowed dreams winter solstice do androids dream of electric sheep last post — those dreams that never became memories avoiding traffic the back alleys of a self I’ve never explored divorce court all that that never was glass facade all the blue skies trapped within (Published in Cafe Haiku on 14/04/2022 as part of the theme "Dreams") Author

old bricks the peepal still finds space to make home (Published in Cafe Haiku on 18/11/2022 as a haiga)

 dusk light looking for fairytales that don't end (Published in Cafe Haiku on 19/11/2022 as a haiga)

 velvet lining my blank canvas blank still (Published in Cafe Haiku on 22/11/2022 as a haiga)

 Keys to a bicycle. Photographs of grandparents. A chewed block of wood, with the teeth marks of a dead pet. A diploma, tattered at the edges. My baba-suit, enshrined in crinkly tissue paper. A large collection of mismatched socks. first cry my newborn father wipes his face (Published in Cafe Haiku on 01/12/2022)

 highlighting the gulmohar’s redness koel calls pooja flowers the rain gods claim them for their own non-violence… our Ganesha makes do with fallen flowers flower shop — I just stand by to watch the bees last gong – the bare maidan bursts a-flower (Published in Cafe Haiku on 17/04/2023)

 Morning Dog … is what Myshka is not. The thought of a walk in the dawn chill fills her with dread. She stays curled up till the sunbeams light up her nose. evensong the koel’s notes sleepier * Jerky Justice Unlike the fable, the monkey (I) ends up overfeeding to keep the balance between the senior and junior retrievers. sibling envy the aggression in the tail wags * Moving On “You don’t make me wet anymore” she said drily. dried petal now who was it exactly? (Published in Cafe Haiku on 29/04/2023)