The Skin of Tradition

The foreigner watches a wedding in fascination large bindi squatting on her forehead red saree colouring white limbs. The elders enthuse at how she sits relaxed on the dusty ground reveres the sacredness of every chant embraces chaos in wondrous happiness.   The Americans, Germans, English, French, Italians flock here, hearts one with conch shells; cross-legged, slurp white rice and dal from banana leaves. Yet I, I ask for my fork and spoon. Yet I, Read More …

The making of a Goddess’

resplendent Goddess when you become we will worship you with flowers, the best roses we shall decree lotuses, pink-gold, fifty-five petals no less incense mesmerising intoxicating only the pure can visit they must fast a whole day and half pine, plan for a year or two before they visit you we will enshrine you in marble from European shores inlaid lapis lazuli outside peacocks in the garden fountains bursting colours we will worship you your Read More …

Setu ………………….. सेतु

Poetry: Mona Dash Mona Dash The Skin of Tradition The foreigner watches a wedding in fascination large bindi squatting on her forehead red saree colouring white limbs. The elders enthuse how she sits relaxed on the dusty ground reveres the sacredness of every chant embraces chaos in wondrous happiness. The Americans, Germans, English, French, Italians flock here, hearts one with conch shells; cross-legged, slurp white rice and dal from banana leaves. Yet I, I ask Read More …