Father’s father’s ashes
in the Ganges

On his desk,
Snapshot of nude chest
in
open boat.

bare arm stretched
brightorange marigolds and
pained face entwine
against dull Grey waters.

No sacred rivers for me.

Mahim Creek, perhaps.

Blue plastic bags
and I
wave a hello
to passers by on the 9:15 local

Moored in murky
Kottayam backwaters instead.

southbombaysoul
too pungent for that gentle streamhome?

Weeds, undergrowth, fire-flyfeeding water lilies chant:
Short on sacred rivers here
Short on sacred rivers here
…

Flinga
flippant
coin
into
Panchganga-
enroute
Vadgaon

Close-your-eyes,
make-a-wish
make-a-wish
make-a-wish
daddy says.

(for Revathy Gopal)

Who
allowed you,
the flute-charmer
to sweep into my life?

Gusts of spring time wind,
sweet smelling jasmine —

gone– without a trace–
as if giving me that bloody flute
would forgive everything.

Was bansi your voyeur?
Watching in nocturnal quiet as
crouched naked half-squatting,
I sob,
heavy body sprawled beside.