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.

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