(..) my cheeks, full in lilies
my mind, anointed by the half-moon bathing the Śivling
i walked and walked and walked
hungry for a glimpse of your feet
at crossroads
my torturous One of Monsoon
devised a game:
i felt
his lips
hovering
on my hair, hands, and eyelids
yet when i turned
my mouth
to claim
my longing
i could only kiss
a devious scent of lotus
the empty air
and a devious scent of lotus
after ten, twenty
thirty turns
and one hundred and eight hot tears
the mountain road came to a halt
you, nowhere to be found.
only a devious scent of lotus.
a perfume so deceitful
that when the milky ocean
was churned in the first aeon
the asuras did not taste nectar
for they chose not the elixir
but the conch streaming it instead
last crossroads in sight,
i screamed
ENOUGH.
MY LORD, IT IS ENOUGH.
TEAR MY CENTER
WED MY NAVEL
DO NOT HIDE FROM ME.
Gangā sizzled as your lotus scent filled my nostrils
maddened, i looked around for You, when, a whisper:
𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔.
excerpt from a poem from my upcoming collection “the Monsoon One and the pilgrim”. photo: Gangotrī at night. the Himālayas are calling again. 
amaryllis 