Balancing nectar-filled pots on their heads
ladies shook a leg or two
and sung their gratitude for the land they walked on.
The naked naga sadhus came
from all corners to the confluence.
There was the smell of marigold and ashes they wore,
the sea of sounds from all over the world,
the trumpeting elephants,
the colour-clad modern bands and the manly bhangras,
and the chimes off the devotees' shoulders
Sadhus, scholars, laity
all moved single-minded to the Water.
Scholarly sages with not a care in the world,
discoursed the worries of the world,
others immersed in the Water,
launched leafy boats of flowers
and wished to wash away their worries.
Midst of it all the journos waited impatient
for that twelve-year tryst with the earthly sadhus.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011