DELHI: SANJANA HATTOTUWA
I have passed through,
Drunk the lees of Lutyen,
Savoured, the prismatic colouring of a
Sylphic chunni.
The checkered footfalls, beneath moonlit trees,
Tempered on occasion, by a strain of
Decadence.
Progeny of a plastered Gandhi
Benignly denominated soiled hues of green.
Dodging the garland smoke, the spaghetti of light and
sound,
Seduce erect poles.
Visions of modesty, jostle with drooling eyes,
Both wet in a repressed heat.
Your opacity eludes me I pass
Punctured by your sulphuric rejection
Of all warmness. Reflections of green puddles,
Silhouettes of vanity shrapnel of a splintered Om.
I have known but little,
Bare navals and crass emotion,
The deep serenity of a late-winter serein,
Destitute words, clamouring to voice
Virtues of a stainless, steel prashad.
I have tasted sweet this ancestral land,
This city, now wrenched away
As I sip the last of these coloured days,
Of a solitary Holi.
