To maimed beggars with ingratiating smiles,
to women holding drugged babies
            plying their pitiful trade
under the sway of hungry demons
I say, “No, leave me alone. I am
          on my way to another place.”

To unending noise: trucks spewing fumes,
honking horns, hawkers shouting holy names
          to sell their trinkets
I say, “No, stop, be quiet, quiet!’

*

The howling of emaciated strays
joins fervent devotional voices, ‘Shiva,
         Shiva Mahadeva – Allah Ho Akbar
         Great God we praise, we implore You.’
Throats and hearts throb with the mighty hum
         of creation-destruction.
The silver idol gazes through luminous eyes
         with eerily penetrating sight.
Dark spirits roam country and towns,
         fear of the evil eye terrifies.

From afar heads of state come calling
          to court the sleeping giant
covetous and leery of its massive footprint.

            Orphans’ brilliant smiles
surprise with hopeful innocence<
           belying inner brokenness.

Clad in precious silks the Entitled
sport faces frozen  in disdain.
Yet a new generation is hearing
the many cries of despair
and responds with compassion.
These harbingers are standing
on the threshold of a Golden Age.

*

            But in this very moment –
I long for a measure of the familiar,
of order, clean cool breezes, sanitary silence
            where I can say, “Yes, yes.”
I feel limp like the greens
in street vendors’ baskets.
My senses are raw in this India
land of scorching sun, of sages,
ancient wisdom, desperation and graft –
a place that churns poison and nectar
         from my very soul.

Its relentless chaos pushes me
beyond my “no” and “yes”
into the unmasked naked Here,
the uncompromising Now –
where all resistance is futile
and my judgments scatter in the wind
like the fine ever-present dust
          of this harsh, sacred earth –
this land of Avatars and holy ones.