From The Banks Of Ganga Ii Poem by indira babbellapati

Who lived atop
Those distant hills
Where flickered
A lamp or two
During the nights?

Come night
Ganga turns
Into an enchanting black beauty
Her hilly banks
And the sky:
One overwhelming
Sheet of darkness clinging to
The beautiful Ganga
Flowing in that stillness of night
Her skin shining in ripples of gold
Laughing in mirth
Singing a resonant melody
Along the flow

Ganga, the enchantress
Ganga, the mother
Ganga, the worshipful
Day or night
Little difference
To people who came to her
To pay their obeisance