After the Sun Sets in Krishnapur

Ishwor Kadel

After the Sun sets
the western sky stays reddish for quite long
the birds return to their nests
the traffic drives home from the town
the jackals in their tribes howl nearby
the street dogs keep silent till the howl ends
the owls hoot on the electric poles
the lapwings are heard far away over the rivers
and a few dogs bark at the pedestrians.

After the drink-and-drive check is over
teens start shooting guns from their bikes
reminding everyone of the Almighty
street lights witness nocturnal movements quietly
the moon guards Krishnapur for its scrutiny
until the Sun peeps through the Barandavaar forest.

After the Sun sets
the roads try to take a short nap
the mongooses and the yellow-throated martins move on the yard
and the young and the old lie on their beds
listening to the noise of silence.

After the Sun sets
the local pubs turn into a long-awaited parliament
where people talk much wiser
and the publican rules as an unbiased speaker.

After the Sun sets
the streets desperately wait for the Sun to rise again
the youths hallucinate travelling with the Sun
the old couple dine hurriedly and wait for their children’s video calls
and dream of welcoming them home.

After the Sun sets in Krishnapur,
the buildings with attached baths
frighten their occupants time and again
and leave their bodies aching
from climbing up and down the stairs all day.

After the Sun sets,
everything visible sets slowly with the Sun
and rises, bit by bit, the next morning
with the light of new hopes.