Procession:
everyone has
the same face
the same colour
and pace.

Upfront
one limps
or bends.

Behind
limp
and bend
millions
and millions!

The pilgrimage
day and night
sniffing
milk payasa.
What they get-
leftovers of food
and fish-bones.

The ones who left
long ago
for Varanasi30
must be trudging
forest and mounts
even now.

In any torrent
there will be
a straw of hay.

There are no varandas
or dining tables
one has not crawled on.

Even below the cornerstone
of the taravad is the aroodam.31

When opened
leaving seven lines
and seven letters
a hole
that gapes in the epic.

Crawl over the corpse
as silence
clings on to the eyelids
that never close
horrid scenes.