Burning Ghats of Varanasi
Huge heaps of fire gaze at me from far,
the flaming maws marking time.
I smell its smoke, holy smoke, rising;
Its classic smell, leaching through
Its perfumed camouflage.
And piles of wood stacked up like
disappointments, big and small.
Little men hover, powerless as moths.
Hungry cows circle the fires
like brides, the matrimonial fire.
Galaxies of the gods
blazing at the altars of the ghats.
One eats up ghee, the other human fate.
Upon towers of grief, the aviation lights
Pundits sit stamping away
travel papers in Sanskrit.
Not far away, gurus sell Sanskrit
to English-speaking clients.
I am blank.
No fear. No love or hate either.
What else could be in there.
Is there at least some last desire left?
And I find, of all things, hunger, in there.
Hunger for food
But hunger is death also.
Yes, death, the last in desire. That is the finding.
That is going to be the verdict too
Mruthyuna eva idam aavrutam aseet ashnaayaya.
Death, the very first void,
Death, the hunger, with its mouth of fire
The death that gnaws at everyone’s gut.
‘Ashanaaya hi mruthyu’.
Notes:
Mruthyuna eva idam aavrutam aseet ashnaayaya : all this was covered by death that is hunger
Ashanaaya hi mruthyu = Hunger is death indeed.
This is from Brhadaranyaka Upanishad. ‘In the beginning, there was nothing. By death was all this covered. Or by hunger. For, hunger is death indeed’.
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