Old Chapel of Berhampur

Beside the old chapel of Berhampur A shadow of man Residual on the lonely roads, Always walked in circles After 3’o clock at night. One crossing to another, He moved with no hurry. Like a pendulum of his world, He collected time and stones In his empty pockets! I could see him getting heavier while he thinned, Walking through the racing cars at night Beneath the yellow street lights He lived from corners to corners And in the shadows of closed shops And perhaps on one of my scarred diary pages Abstractly, As if he had no face, No name. These men of torn cloths and blackened feet Do not have names, Only residues they leave behind, On the corners where they sleep Stories spilling out of the pocket through a large hole And dreams vaporizing from his memory While he slept In broad daylight with the shadows of the old chapel of Berhampur Berhampur is a small town in India