Mother Parvati with

Of your blessingAnd the bird soul so distressed and baffledHas to go, to goCovering a long distance,Taking a longer flightTo the other ocean side.

Or, about innocent love,A girl who lived unknown,Died unknownJust like a wild blossom?

What poor conditions can be,How do they live underImpoverished circumstances?I knowWhat money isAnd when you do not have,How miserable it becomes life,How strenuous and stressful?

Of the terracotta temples,The broken pillars and columnsTurned into a mound of earthAnd trying to relate it back to,Ascertaining its date of making,The goldsmiths who worked on,Whose hands turned them into a shape.The artistry and craftsmanship is no doubt admirable,But the statue lay it in the earthOf the dilapidated temples,The small-small terracotta templesMade from limestone…

We must give to themAs how can it beThat we shall remain in healthAnd they will struggleFor medicines of survival?This I have not learnt from my homeAnd morality does not permit meTo be selfish and self-centred,This is the lesson of humanity I have learnt from.

I can feel itNowWhatThe horoscope-makers,Astrologers,Soothsayers,Oracle-makers,PunditsDid to you,YouWhat the middlemen,Courtiers,FloristsDid to you,You,Devadasi?Your pain,Your pain,Devadasi,Devadasi,What theyDid to you,You,How,How did theyTake youTo the temple campus?