The Body of Mother India

Jan. 18, 2011

From my balcony this much I see,

A tiny temple with its priest enshrined.

The Pongal celebration has begun.

On the street the ladies bent in half

With mathematical accuracy design

Kolams of exquisite form with ease,

Colourful and transient they last

But a day or two brightening this world

So strewn with refuse that it hurts to see

The body of Mother India so abused.

Perhaps a time will come and consciousness

Grown aware of the sacredness of earth

Will spur the soul and beauty manifest,

A higher man descend, a guardian

Who shall reclaim the world for the Divine.

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*Pongal – The harvest festival celebrated in South India similar to Thanksgiving.