I marvel
For a moment
At the saris
Hanging in the shops
A spectacle of
Colour
Texture
Pattern
Each sari unique
Tightly packed
In the confines
Of tiny shops
Not at all unlike
The thrumming humanity
In the narrow streets
Of Chandni Chowk
I marvel
For a moment
At the saris
Hanging in the shops
A spectacle of
Colour
Texture
Pattern
Each sari unique
Tightly packed
In the confines
Of tiny shops
Not at all unlike
The thrumming humanity
In the narrow streets
Of Chandni Chowk
The place was stocked with beer, though. Lots of it. Their inventory must have been pretty mobile. The bartender just pointed a thumb over his shoulder when I asked for a beer list.
“We’ve got everything in those shelves.”
I counted five rows of 20 cubbyholes each, and every one had a different beer or cider. Maybe one was empty, just for the cliche.
“Impressive.”
Such are the conditions
Of beautiful perfections
Eternities wrought
With the release of shutters
Thrice in a moment
If I can be still
For just a moment longer
If I can be present
In all this shadow and blur
Will the world make more sense
Will anyone see
Me
Like waking up
In a strange bed
In a strange room
Trying to find
That one thing
That one point
Of recognition
A silhouette
Bicycle rickshaw
India
Three lives there
Faceless beneath the clouds
Unknown
Unknowable
But for outlines
Against the sky
One drops off the world
Lost forever
To anonymity
But for the unnamed character
Forming in the theatre
Of my mind
On Ganga banks
At Shiva’s
Light
Where people come
To see
The sight
Some pray
Some pay
In boats
Packed tight
And through it all
A grand parade
Of faces, of beings
The beauty hardly noticed