on the streets of the beach town
we ask the rksaw walla to take us for darsan
“It’s at the seva asrama, where we always go”
With a wink and a smile he began counting
let us off at the kalarupa’s chime
got there just in time
to see the thakuras in red and feathers
on their redwood throne
now the pujari in the filigree chodder
with a pocket for a cellulite phone
smiles and offers incense at out feet and waist
with smoke rings and, prabhu, could you believe what they said?
“visalaksa sikhipicca camara dhulaya”
they turned pirouettes, leapt in the air and rejoined the other rings
leis of roses, petals, lilies and “sumanas” flowers
showed how this vision revealed ek bindhu jagat dhubai’s power
to the highway Gecko and I go to meet with the usual friends who are talking about world touring and other delights. At the exit for the park the roadies come along to the pitch and the wharf road. the long and winding took me past the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and fold my palms for respect. The vaikalika bhoga is waiting. Back to Mahamuni’s post office to post the butteracary’s envelope. The snob hill finds the roadies laughing in the village and at the point of the hook. Gecko takes leave and I go on between the lakes. Keeping the tennis park on the right I take the toad road to the navapatra. There is a whole team flying by on the wharf road it’s quite the competition. They don’t see me tagging along at the end until I go past the last couple of pedalers. But the ratha-bhojana-vrksa calls to me and the kalarupa chases me back for the sandhya.
i dream of seva as I write this song
but don’t let me dream too long
dress them, put them to bed
and offer banana ksir
they call east Bengal the Radhadesa,
call this nightdress baby blue
they slip in to it fast and take rest early