An evocative poem about a squirrel, with reference in the Ramayana, exclusively for Different Truths
I watched the spry squirrel scamper away hearing my footfall, its ear turned to even slight dissonance of sound and it rushed to guard its nest; a fretful companion, content to feed its squealing offsprings, also hearkening to my short fuse. Its energy was unfailing; it would sweep to the terrace to grab any morsel It could feed, the red stripes on its back, blessed by mythical Lord Ram*, kept egging it on perhaps, it knew when the windows would drop down at night to squeeze inside for a nap in its niche; Its squealing heralded the dawn of dawn too. Nudging me to open the window to the trove of morning breeze flowing in; And it would rush out. Wonder what is its missive? “Wake up Man, it’s time.”
*A mythological hero from the Indian epic Ramayana.
Visual by Different Truths