In West Bengal, where he was born,
Demonstrated as Siiva’s son
Jaya jaya gurudeva
Perfectly satisfying his guru’s desire
Faning our devotional fire
Jaya jaya gurudeva
A silver flute for Giridhari, and effulgence to celebrate the day
Roses and a handful of sumanas make their leis
Jaya jaya gurudeva
The raindrops came to be pedaled between. The ratha-bhojana-vrksa is surprised to see the gecko and I going by. Circling around the southland reversing to the bridge over the first highway. No one is there on the clank of the aluminum bat field. The whalers are inside with few details to do. We fly by with fenders to keep us dry. Around the corner to where the reviewing stand usually is but today it’s inside and so the gecko takes his leave and I take the peddler’s ramp to the bear and the wharf road. There a pair of peddlers with lights on their head and chattering like some kind of weird unearthly vision. Then it’s the long and winding road and the kalarupa who takes me to the sandhya on time.
The touch that kills is the nightdress and with the red with flowers embroidered and the creamy white blend together as smooth as milk.