Mantra MUKIM
_{FROM SUR}

AFTER SURDAS /
            HARI MORA AVAGUNA
                   

so let it fall

my blemishes

slip away

unclasped

between

your breast

running oil

warm trickle

the honking

power plant

mixed with

evening azaan

see the hearing

of redkites

lolling atop

the mahua

unaware of

the tree’s past

don’t they say

your name,

hari means

single-glazed

window

trickle vented

forgiving late

capital again

& again hands

digging

the infra-

systems

loyalist

team players

minutely

peer-reviewed

take my hand

hari

ferry me

in and out of

this world

lumped iron

square pedestal

a faint

pointillist face

& necks bend

lips split

saffron threads

tight bosom

sharp but faceless

essence

of iron

also felt

on the

goat’s neck

in daryaganj

iron tethered

to the butchers

hands

a metal’s supple

inner life

no dialectic

here

for paras stone

all iron is already

gold

butcher’s tool or

a god in making

blank river

leaving devprayag

forcing

stones of benares

to spit grass

gets buried

in the same ocean

as the gutter

out of

lower howrah

where my marwari

ancestors

toss loose

cotton yarn

a fully-insured

life pleads

your expanding

soul, hari 

carry me

with you

beyond this

world border

slow visa to

your breath

a centrally-

heated

house

in your voice

ever waiting

to burst into

a soft joyous

tension