Eighty

sand and grime ebb and flow
over my toes and here in this

equatorial metropolis where

the sun seems to shine just enough
to keep everyone warm and not

too much to fry us all into oily bhajias,

i'm reconnecting with some loose but

always implied parts of

me.

i like hearing your voices

floating through my ears

and my mind is listening to you, clear,

and you are teaching me your

raagas, your tidbits of history,

red tandoori, smiles remniscent of

college days,

i like reconnecting, and hearing

and believing. all our talks are like

well-mixed chaat, tasty and full

of flavor and promise and

unknown. please,

always, take my mind here

where love is abundant like

chai offerings and mithai,

and let me meditate

on the jhoola on which

i've been swinging for weeks while

this country, this mother, has sung to

me, so sweetly