Annapoorna, Dwaraka, Ganga,
holiness awash on these streets
Bustling corners bring forth aromas
of ‘dosas’ in steaming ‘sambar’ and tea.
He stood still amidst the human flow
drinking in the familiarity with his soul.
Home at last, safe in the crowd
where no one questioned his pedigree.
Merging with calls from the green minaret nearby,
chants arise as the temple bells chime
and oil-filled lemon halves carry flickering wicks.
A melodious cacophony for one homesick.
The rickshaw puller’s shoos, honking autos,
and girlish chatter filled his endless vacuum ,
sprinkled with anklet tinkles and shimmering bangles
making him feel like a potential bridegroom.
The cackle of womanly dialects ,the fishmonger’s smells.
‘Samosas’ and ‘kachoris’ tickled his numb taste buds.
Drowning in vibrancy, rainbows replacing shadows
The festive palette of ‘Holi’ now swirled in his blood .
Feelings of warmth and belonging drenched his skin.
Passing cows swished tails upon this blissful human drum.
Familiar film music and home-coming tunes
gathered him close with an Indian welcome.