Not intended
To diminish
The faithful
But to invite
What could be
More iconic
India
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
I arrive in Rishikesh
Where the Ganga
Gently exits
The Himalaya
Heave a sigh
Breathe deeply
And collect myself
On the riverbank
With utter abandon
She runs
Gangly limbs
All astrewn
Head rolled back
Now lolling
Side to side
She runs
Only for the joy
It seems
Of running
Down Bengali Tola
And as my camera
Finally finds her
She finds me
Impossible to gauge
To comprehend
Without standing
In the midst
Feeling the flow
Feeling the insignificance
Of one more being
In this tumultuous rapids
Of being
Intricate details
Inlaid in stone walls
Indicate a beauty
And subtlety
Beckoning exploration
In a very important sense
The tanks are assets
The propane is product
Both have value
While the men transporting them
Represent labour
Labour is an expense
The material vs the abstract
While the bells clang
Insistently
In golden Varanasi
Where the priests
Celebrate Shiva
With a dance of fire
Pix to Words 