Outside The Glass House
Sitting by the bank of the Ganges

I watch
The river, in its pristine glory,
Hurtling down towards Haridwar;
The mist over the water
White, merging with the waves downstream
Lending an aura of mystery to the Goddess;
The clouds flitting away slowly
Unveiling the tree line beyond.

I walk upstream
Thru’ light cobwebs, stretching
Across the lemon trees,
Remade, instantly, behind me.

As the Sun rays
Try to strike the river,
Bhagirath’s tapasya
Flows on unharnessed.

The occasional cooing of a bird -
The music to the lyrics of the waves;
The bus struggling up,
On the shoulder of the road
The decibels drowned in
Samrat Sagar’s ultimate salvation.

And, the next morning
Yet Again

The Goddess, with its misty veil,
Vishnu’s consort, singing the same song
The Sun God’s messengers
Indulging alongwith.

The repeated, banal consistencies
Cleanse my soul !