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Poem

Rural eyes fall upon my white guest with golden hairs.	
She’s put on jeans, not a sari, and an orange T-shirt, not a blouse.
Brown children chase her in wonder along our country road.
I’m her host- cum- guide just for a day. 
My Indian English and her Finnish English meander through the mist. 

Kids clap her risky balancing on a fallen coconut palm across a pond.
Applause replaces her nerves.
She buys a paper bowl of parched peanuts.
Brown vendor’s eyes prick her white skin. 
And we return like the sun amidst the saffron splendor.

Water boils in my kettle in the kitchen.
Her tongue drops sugar.
Smell of sweet vibes wafts up from my mind’s coffee mug.
I resist my hot impulse to pinch on her chubby cheek.
And I bundle everything up in a precious smile.

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