Langurs in the Garden

For once, the suburbs

Of my congested city

Resembled a Ruskin Bond story –

No, not snow-clad peaks

But langurs came gambolling

In the winter’s warmth

Snacking on the dahlia blooms

Upsetting the marigold pots

 

The children amused, restrained

The elderly agitated

A din created, by both primates

While I floated,

In an arboreal dream

Watching silky-white langurs

Colouring my city

Despite being black and white

 

 

‘What a nuisance! Nasty invaders!

I hear a neighbour shout

And wonder

Who invaded whom?

The langurs, who have been foraging thus

In this corridor for centuries

Or us, the sapient ones

Leaving no foliage unturned

 

I visit the aftermath in my garden

Upturned pots, dishevelled plants

But the shimmering fur

And untamed beauty

Brings back a smile

As Ruskin Bond comes back to me –

That after all the wars are over

A butterfly will still be beautiful…