Crossing the Threshold and 2 other poems

As rains lashed the chaturmash
The Buddha, planning his Sangha
Said, gaccami
But His followers
And Hers too
Their Lady, flower in hair, serene
Quite forgot, that bit about sharanam

Refuge. Asylum. Retreat. Safety
Those are for Buddhists, no?
Not for the Rohingya who forsook our faith
Let them flee; gachami!
We can express polite regret afters

Crossing the river of blood
Leaving homeland, they arrived
In a distant capital, Delhi
A mistake
For there too, Islamophobes reigned

Fire did what water could not
Air and earth did their share
And the boat of hope, capsized all the same.

A cash economy is not only black
It’s the chillar my amma pays her subziwallah for some greens
It’s the blues a rickshawallah gets without his bidi
A schoolgirl feeling in the pink about that treat she saved up for
The yellow of a grandmother’s bit of puja marigold
It’s the silver of your father’s medicine strip
The many colours of jhalmuri near the Moidan
Pink is the new black

But
Not everybody does credit cards
And those with the asli black must’ve got away long ago
So what was it really about?

Gauri departs
To Himavan’s
Cloud realm

Father’s heir
In name & courage
Menai now bereft of both

Only the grief
Of this pale visage
Left to us

Gauri departs
To Himavan’s Cloud realm
Father’s heir
In name & courage
Menai now bereft of both
Only the grief
Of this pale visage
Left to us