From all tiled corners they eye me.
They are still, very still with ceramic poses
And values. I round them and gaze

At the jaundiced and sea-coloured beings.
Their silky clothes and gold ornaments
Shawl them rich, like an afterbath of milk.

These godfolk are a myriad: elephant-headed,
Lotus-chaired and the crescent-haired one that
Stands bluely with a coiled cobra necking him.

They annihilate me with their icy stares.
They almost know the refusal
Of my belief system.

A ring of fire-dews burns in front of me,
I bless myself. a little vermillion eye finds itself
Deathly in between my brows.

The bell is being whipped in fatal threes.

Shalini Nayar
© 2002