The co-existences

 

They are there

In their usual place

In the middle of the confluence of three roads

In the roundabout

Sit scattered here and there

Selling fish

Indifferent

With the fish, big and small, in front of them

In many sizes and shapes

Under the canopy of a huge tree

Today the tree is embellished with variegated bulb-garlands

As if the stars dangled right above their heads

The nearby Devi temple festival is going on

The music is flowing out of boxes placed in each corner of the roads

Buyers, alone or in groups, come and go

The streets are unusually brighter today

They are indifferent

They sit there, till midnight

Waiting for their daily buyers

Then their vehicles pick them all, back to the houses

Away from the city, by the seaside

These ladies, undaunted, sit, in rain or heat

Fish smelling bodies

They dream, their small children or grandchildren

In colourful dresses and with filled stomachs

And in happiness and health

Nothing more

Their world is small

Their dreams know well the boundary walls of reality

And these luring colours or mellifluous music can’t enter into their being

May be, in Sundays, when they wear the colourful sarees to the church they taste a pinch of life

Or in a marriage, when they sing together the prayers

Or in a Christmas, when they watch the night programs in the churches

The seashore, the churches, the selling roundabout

The universe condensed itself to fit within the boundary of these places for them

They are my co-existences, and I, who do not eat fish, am theirs

 

 

sarala

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