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
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