I Live In Little India Poem by john tiong chunghoo

</>dawn in Little India unfolds
from the sanctum of the Lotus
petal by petal of spiritually
inches and spreads around our heart as
as the sun rises from the palm
of the Almighty colouring the sky
with his shades of blessings
like the Hindu Gods blue,
green, red, and yellow on their chariots
screening the splendour of heavens
buddhist temple bell chimes right at six,
after the call of the mosque azan
when there is a hindu festival
the nearby shrine where Kali manfiests
the frightening scale of her character
a red blood tongue lengthy enough
to draw a thousand questions
from passers of her divinity
one of the few Hindu goddesses to whom
you can slaughter an animal to please her

india and little india fight for space
this little shrine even the Gods have to make do with little place
to stand, to sit, as devotees pray, offer incense
to Muruga, the warrior God, Muneswaran,
the Guardian God and Ganapathi the Elephant God
for a happy existence in Little India

to be continued









rattles away
their drums to a frenzy
the spiritually inclined joins in
the meditation ambience evoke
by all these, the gayathri and other mantras











i used to see the world in black and white
until i started to live in little india
there is light in the dark or darkness in light
my eyes are open to chakras, bright red, orange
yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet
these are the colours of the buildings
clothes, vibuthi, ....

poetry in progress