This Mahalaya, this place,

This Mahalaya,
This flowing river,
This dip,
I think
I have been all through
For ages...
Counts of which i never keep,

Since
I woke up perhaps,
Since i got the smell
Since i could tell
Words
In wordless forms...

This coolness in the wet air,
This recall of ancestral hymns,
This irreligious Holiness,
This birth to trace
How poesy forms in every flowing moment,
How life in water rises
And mixes,

Reminds me again
Of my childishness...
My runs to the neighbourhood park,
Running red bicycle mine,
Savouring the radio spreading chants into the air,
And smelling so much of sheuli blossoms...

This Mahalaya,
Is definitely
Infinite...
This Mahalaya
Is just like
A journey back,
To dreams.

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