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Poem

Delhi seems  closer than it was last time. 
After a tea with GST, 
on to a backstreet  of Varanasi, 

Untouched by authority; 
ignored more by memory 
than darkened by amnesia.  

A huge black cow  lazes about, 
like a Moghul monarch blocking 
half the street. It won’t let the OLA pass.

At the hoary-holy sanctum, 
 my poor drops of milk from a paper cup
pour on to the Lord’s cosmic crown.

Ganga, here, is a very old  Benares 
fraying at the edges, laid out in the open.
So still, like samana, the balancing  prana.

From a boat I watch how human flesh fuels 
 the firewood at the Harichandra ghat..
Benares  eyes Harichandra rather darkly.

Then,  the  Ganga Arati at 6.30
Their off-white  attire. The huge lamps they hold 
and draw patterns with, in the air.

Lines with the solemn predictability 
of a Ravi varma . Ganga  is a new Miss world by now.
At  the Manikarnika ghat too, bodies dutifully burn.

In the dark, Death sparkles like huge fireflies;
 pampered by pundits and Sanskrit 
I lie in an OYO  at Godowlia so ill.

So close to mukti. A godsend of a doctor
At Matha Anandamayi hospital queers my pitch..
One of a tribe long extinct in Serpent town,

his fees: ‘whatever you please’.
I remember  hospitals back in Kerala.
Thank god, I was not in one there. 

Else, I would have hit  hell by now, looking for money.
Sure, the ‘path to hell is paved with good intentions’ 
( of corporates and false swamis)

Notes:
Varanasi: It is also called Benares and Kashi, One of the holiest of cities in India, known for its temple, by the Ganges, dedicated to Lord Shiva.
OLA   : The taxi cab app,   OYO   : An app to find hotel rooms.
Serpent town : Trivandrum,    Samana : One of the five pranas(breaths), the equalizing prana.

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