Wings whisper through air
Black Kite shouts discordant scree
Fearful pigeons flap
Wings whisper through air
Black Kite shouts discordant scree
Fearful pigeons flap
Imagine ordered chaos
Frenetic stillness
Waiting for an event
Ever in progress
Then find five men at rest
In the midst of disorder and tumult
One obscured
Ever changing
Ever the same
A paradox of contradictions
Such is
Chandni Chowk
A maze of amazement
Selling all you might want
And never wanted
An eternity of moments
In every moment
Among them five still men
In a state of unrest
The burden
For those
Who carry
No burden
Irony
In a sea
Of burdens
I drift with the flood
Of beauty in the human spirit
Even in weighty moments of need
This light
This scene
This Earth
Only we humans
Can make of this
Hell
In nature’s kill
Know instinct is integrity
In consciousness
Is born the lie
Cruelty, and malfeasance
At dawn I climb the mountain
To remind my consciousness
Of beauty and awe and goodness
A narrow street
An ancient town
A boy and his kite
Off to play
An ancient game
I an old man
Feel the joy inside
Paper and sticks
Ribbon and string
Dance in the wind
I become again
A boy and his kite
Just for a moment
But the moment
Is good
“She is like an angel,” he says, awed
I nod my head
As her boat recedes, into the night
I check the display, hoping I caught it
It’s there, as I search for words
Transcendant
Is where I land
When neither beauty nor perfection suffice
And even the divine of angelic falls short
A word for when no word captures an experience
In a city of thrum and hum
Always in motion
Always in commotion
Whose voice knows only to shout
Islands of quiet patience
Await their moment
To rejoin the miasma
Of humanity
Test the lines again
Against prevailing currents
Reassured secure
Harried by sea gulls
Or so it seems
Invited guests
Swarm the hands
That feed them
Life flitters on Ganga’s banks
A small cascade of humanity
Going about its day-to-day
Details succinctly lit
Or lost in silhouette
The same to my mind’s eye
What seems a bath
Instead a spiritual cleanse
What seems unclean water
Instead the holiest of rivers
On the banks of its holiest city