India Calling

India Calling

 

Sitting here in a café

that sings of pianos and

whispers of violins

playing to a quiet audience

of jasmine tea leaves

and Sumatran coffee beans,

all I can see are

warm, heady flashes of

 mango sari

sliding down

a sandalwood arm-

heathen streets

angry honks

blinding blinding light

spilling into

this lonely darkness.

So much laughter

so much love

pouring into a

simmering pot of kohlapuri mutton:

mirchi and turmeric.

I see people who look like me,

fussing grandmotherhens

preening auntiedoves

nameless uncles

and faceless cousinbrothers.

In this artistically cold and cultured little café

all I can feel

is the

heavy

monsoon

summer.

 

I want to go home.

 

Reviews

[GenMuffin7]

i got a taste of india.
thats powerful, and i love the ending.