Arun Kolatkar's Jejuri Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Kolatkar as the journey man
Journeying,
The travel man
Travelling,
The pilgrim
Setting out on a pilgrimage,
Going to Khandoba
In a ramshackle bus
Old and unable to carry
And crowded
With strange pilgrims
The old and the weak
And poorer,
Widows and of all sorts

The bus somehow going
With the window panes
Shattered and tattered,
The colour and paints
Discoloured
Kept under sun and shower
And lying out of use,
But repaired for the purpose
And in the same burs
Kolatkar going to Khandoba
With his faith and doubt
In the age-old bus
As if running on a cobbled street
Going to Khandoba,
Taking to.

Kolatkar as a man
Moustached and long-haired,
The artistic guard
Or the sculpted dwarpala, gatekeeper
Going,
Going to Khandoba
With little faith
In his heart,
So much of skepticism,
Doubt and suspicion
In his soul,
Twirling and twisting his moustache
And cracking jokes.