Taste Of Madras Poem by nithya raghavan

Train tracks are imitated,
Those rivers exhale their
Breaths opening their mouths,
Under the bridges,
On which vehicles groan
On a Monday morning.
Jasmine bracelets clasp
The hair of women,
Photos of human beings,
Masters and Gods,
Tamil flows,
Milk that gushes out
Of an earthen pot
On the day of Pongal,
Sounding as crisp as the
Kancheepuram sarees that
Embrace women's bodies
And as pure as the
Soulful music of anklets
That dance on the floor.
Bells and cries of
Different religions, castes,
And creeds clash like
Noiseless swords, the
Tar that is layered
On the corner of
The road is the
Kajal that lines the
Eyes of Gods and Goddesses
As They bathe in the
Smell of incense sticks
And camphors. They
Get ready to march
And look around the
Place, along with the
Alwars and Nayanmars,
As they get a break
From their jobs,
On festival days.
Crows break through
The crowd of breeze
As they laugh at those
Indecisive catamarans that
Keep one leg in water,
The other in land,
And the filter coffee remains
Comfortably seated in a
Steel tumbler vanishing bit
By bit, as the hair of
Coconut trees and sugarcane
Cover the face of the moon…………