Women Wordsmiths And Christmas By Sutanuka Ghosh Roy

The Beneras Skyline

I try to navigate my way
Through the dark by lanes of Beneras
I seek refuge in His coiled braid
I meet wet-loin pundits
I search for the beheaded Brahma
I sit on the wet steps of Manikarnika ghat
I chew paan and watch the dead spirits whisper
I try to fish out a fresh Marigold garland
From the womb of Jhanvi
I watch the red flames and search for the sacred nymphs
I think of Kabir and Ghalib
I hear the shenahai, gazals, thumris
And the chants of aghoris
I sit with tea in an earthen cup
I see the sky melt into the nectar of the twelve rivers.