Dalits Rising

Dalits Rising

A friend said, take a bag of marbles,

pull one out for every year you’ve spent--

then look at what’s left, mocking

you from the bottom of the bag.

That’s how long you have left, pal.

So I count black marbles from the

jewel box I brought home for Blythe

from my journey to the Taj Mahal.

Shining lime-white in Agra’s evening sky

its pale marble skin cooled the night.

Below, ghats sparked trails into the sky

souls rising to heaven like fireflies.

Dusted by paradise, the sigh of jasmine,

the squawking song of the parakeets.

The fevered brow of the tea-wallahs.

The sand cranes cried for evermore

gone to close-up like Shammi Kapoor.

The sunset was so tender

The sky burned deepest blue

The dogs howled in anger

But the meaning all was you.

Another marble lifted from the box.