Strut of the Hollow Ritual
Listening to the mridanga's beat,
the kartal's clappings
rows of cars by the roadside -
invitees poised to enter the mandop
to offer money to the palla
and front row guests.
Now a days,
elaborate rituals in religious ceremonies
introduced by the rich and corrupt
not found in our culture and tradition.
Fear stirs deep
in my unhabituated mind.
These are places of strut,
where true grace is left behind -
a stage for wealth,
for pride and display:
no meaning, no beauty,
but hollow show that grips simple hearts.
The poor ape the rich,
sell land or borrow deep,
strangled by debt's coil they can't leap.
What rises today ?
No portrait pure and right,
but dwindling immoral society's blight.
A strut filled society,
where the native soul lies buried,
overthrown.
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