The wind brought down this yellow:

petals littering

the garden, the Maruti’s windshield. 

The rain shreds petals, leaves

sticky splotches.


Armed with a rag, Ram Niwas

(a hardworking old fellow) declares war

on the yellow, enters the battlefield.

He works stubbornly, wrestling stains

in the rain.


The glass listens,

yellowness watches

the old man. It peels off quietly

in petals, remains.