In waters pure
Then, with spirits cleansed
They dry their saris
Upon the steps
Which bore them down
To Mother Ganga’s shore
A few boats rock
As tourists clamber aboard
Laughter and photographs
As my camera surveys the scene
One boat begins to move
Oars dipping, splashing
I find frame on the boat
Zooming out; zooming in
Click a few exposures
Bed roll and cardboard mattress
Stashed in the tree for later
When night rounds the corner
Some small time for sleep
Otherwise
Pedalling
For pilgrims and believers
A gift to Ganga, river goddess
Holy of holies
Source and purifier
In Thailand
Malaysia
China
Japan
Though, not the laughing Buddha
The plump one
In the midst of
A rollicking guffaw
No, not that Buddha
Rather, the somber, reflective one
The one it seems
The weight of the world
Rests lightly
On his androgynous shoulders
But it will be watched
On small screens
Live
Recorded
Streamed
And shared
A million times over
Perhaps, that is a better thing
And in the 16th century
When they first said it
Life as a dog
Was hard
And that’s what they meant
When they said it
Cabs stacked up
End to end
Filled with fares
Or seeking them
Crowded shops
Pedestrians
Littered streets
Swept clean by morn’
So full of life
Activity
This crowded block
Where could it be