The gulls
To feed
On seed
And bread
That’s thrown
From boats
On which
The tourists
View
The banks
Where
Funeral
Pyres burn
All day
And night
I stop by her ad-hoc shop
Mapping my way home
In my mind
From here
A set of stairs
Like a hundred others
All along the the Ganga banks
For miles north and south
Except these stairs
Lead home, almost straight
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
And through it all
A grand parade
Of faces, of beings
The beauty hardly noticed
Then turn around
To discover
Yet another wonder
Leaves me to wonder
How many others
Reflect upon this other
Bed roll and cardboard mattress
Stashed in the tree for later
When night rounds the corner
Some small time for sleep
Otherwise
Pedalling
Could I have been better
At this or at that
Had I offered more devotion
But of all the this
And all the that
Just two devotions have mattered
For pilgrims and believers
A gift to Ganga, river goddess
Holy of holies
Source and purifier