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The Fugitive: Melodies Amidst the Arid Expanse

In this poem, Dr Aneek embarks on a journey to seek solace from the heat. At the same time, the landscape and trees bear witness to a melodious pursuit – exclusively for Different Truths.

In the dry land, the guardian sun 
is generous throughout the year. 
Trees are burnt brown 
and the highway is drowsy 
with alcoholic trucks on sprint.  
 
In one such truck, I am fleeing 
with my guitar, lest the angel sun 
gets angrier. The old guitar, much 
like me, hummed tunes 
that the guardian disapproved of. 

No sign of rain is visible for long. 
Are rains considered drops of mercy? 
I don’t know. For me, the highway is 
a river, warm with affection and steady 
with waves to sail on.  
 
But brown trees are vigilant. 
Scorched bushes stare naked 
at all cars, trucks. 
I’m moving with my guitar, with hopes 
to play all tunes without the fire 
of the ubiquitous guardian.

Picture design by Anumita Roy

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