Yes...yes...
I know
It is not the right place
To stare at you...unblinked
But you bloomed
There in the crowd
Like a lotus with milky pink petals...
The microphone blared...
Early morn kissed your bleached hair...
And the smell of marigold mixed
With sandal wood and incense sticks
Kept me on the ground fixed...
Looking at you...
Chants from cloth red covered book...
The holy incantations...
Fleeting happiness on perennial motion...
'Don't throw petals here and there...
Put them into the basket with care...'
Someone announced over the address system...
I stood like a dumbed liar...
Cars passed...bikes hooted...
Moveless memories to me perfectly suited
Came down in forms of petals
Yellow...orange...white...pink...red...
Placed gently in the cane basket...assorted...
Monday, October 22, 2012
Anjali...
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