india

I taste of the murky waters of the ganga
That washes the souls of the dead
Find me in the Kumb Mela , somewhere among
Mercedes, incense , the standing sadhu and lady nicotine

If you could kiss the lips of the drugged infant, borrowed for an hour
Sleeping in some beggars bag, a sari end tightly clenched by its unaware fist
when you stop for the traffic red
taste the helplessness , know its me.

And in the languid Forest ranges of the south, smell of cinnamon and clove
And in some odd temple under the waterfall, the drunk handsome pujari
With a flower in his ear, if you could taste his song , hear the anguish of the tenders of the earth, You would know its me

Find me in Govinda’s colorful suit, in Kareena’s pout
Taste me in the sacred spaces of the golden temple,
In the pathos of the wail that cuts across the evening sky
From the stained glass of the masjid,

Wonder if my sorrow could join a flock of white geese in a precise v
And fly until it found a sunset and never return to me.

Taste me in the mujra in some dingy brothel ,
Drink me in the pure strains of the gayatri mantra too
If you could taste the robin white of a nun’s attire hung out to dry
You would know its me ,

If its raining and you are dozing in a train homebound
And you wake up to find it swimming , don’t nudge yourself, you are not dreaming
And if in the obscure Rural you find passengers solemnly
Sit like mute Budhas Atop full rickety buses, don’t be alarmed

for it happens in India
Anything goes around here

Don’t sing about the life after I want to tell the church choir
Because there is no heaven. Sing only for this morning
For that’s only what we have . Before noon some of us will be neatly tucked
In mother nature’s four poster bed , her brown covers drawn tightly over our heads

And by dusk the sobs and sighs will melt into the benign black.
Because in India anything goes.

Don’t mourn for me for you didn’t cry for Kashmir.
Don’t wear black for a day if you didn’t hear my silent cries over the years.
I was burning but today you saw the smoke.
Don’t cry for me. For you don’t even know me.