विभूतिमूर्ति

STATIC CACTI

The chill was palpable
Visible and eloquent.
Frozen droplets hung
On the terror-struck twigs.
The machine-gun lay mute 
In shock by the cold
Uniformed prostrate body
Swaddled in a blood-pool.

Soft waltzing tunes
On violins and saxophone,
Hot glowing coals in brazier burning,
Warming the ogling, whiskered colonels
Holding glasses of whiskey 
Around the lissome beauty,
Back-wrapped in a lovely stole
And front alluringly open to the warmth.
Lewd laughters, tinkling glasses,
With somber shadows surrounding.

Earth stood still, wide-eyed,
All frozen and numb.
The snow-draped cacti
Saluting, static and dumb, 
The sideways shaggy dome,
As the gazing sun shone 
On the blood-shot leaden eyes 
Reflecting the glory of a fight
To the last stuttering bullet,
Till all the shrapnels arrived
Whistling, ringing, 
And singing their dirge.

A poem in memory of OP Shukla, my friend, 
who was killed in the China War on the NEFA front in 1962