Home

It’s where the unassuming but stoic Shiva sits

by the verdant Bilva tree

by which the rhythmic Nila flows

where the fragrance of Jasmine and incense

immerses you in an exalted harmony

It’s where outside the temple sits a mendicant

whose eyes speak stories to you

on a noisy street filled with vendors

hawking sweet and savoury goods

to fill your stomach and soul

It’s where the rhapsody of the beat of drums

and Shehnai immerses you in a euphoric state

and the holy hymns make you hum

to the comfort of familiar canticles

that sometimes bring tears to your eyes

It’s where I watch the sunset from one end of the street

in the middle of a silly banter with a friend

and where books smelling of wisdom and moth

are sold by ordinary people on the street

for a living

It’s where I run into friends, acquaintances and exchange a story or two about a distant cousin or impending rain.

It’s where I used to eat peanuts

sitting under the shades of the big banyan tree

It’s where the unassuming Shiva sits

by the verdant Bilva tree,

on the street that I’ve walked a hundred journeys with my mother in tow

It’s where I call home, the streets of Kalpathy

where my soul escapes to, for a whiff of comfort and calm!