Afternoon Raag

Скачать

My mother plays the harmonium; she begins to sing.

Her fingers on the black and white keys make, of her hand, a temple with many doors.

When the music-teacher joins in intermittently, he shows what a strange thing the human voice is,

this tiny instrument in the throat, with its hidden universe of notes, its delicate, inscrutable laws.

A raag, spacious as the mansion the rain builds, enfolds — and sighs, like one of the elements.

Inside the great architecture of the raag, through the clear archway of notes, world without humans,

two figures sit, each alone

— my mother and the music-teacher — enclosed by sofas and paintings and curios.

The music teacher is listless today. He does not respond.

My mother is just a little irritated as she sings, but she is afraid, too, of something she does not understand.

The music-teacher has merged with the sofa behind him, momentarily indistinguishable from the soft, indifferent contours of the furniture,