STIFLED by under currents

A long day at work

finds me a bowl of sevaiyaan

waiting at home with a friend

sharing her warmth of Ramadaan

We exchange smiles and small conversations

in the backdrop of a TV closing up

on spuming swears, stones,

ejaculating blood

             -         of a deeper red
my friend wears a kameez,

 enveloping her skintone and hopes

The golden zari

delicate like the strands of noodles

sugared and soaked in the bowl of milk,

shimmer a tranquility of the evening light

that would soon paint itself

in my diyas for Diwali

I sashay between this moment and

the ones gone by…

                …The cab driver feels his Taqiyah,

answering a call for his well - being

and the curfew

…those roads to Imambara

cloaked with elusive rumours

and hasty tracks

…the forgotten routes

and bangles of Charminar

An existence

on this road feigning normalcy

I empty furrowed brows

into the Muezzin’s call,

into the sacred conch,

into the cupped vacuum of the crescent moon

invoking smiles, conversations

and a hollow resilience

Under currents of religious factionalism never die. Do they?

diya: lamps we light for diwali

Sevaiyaan: Indian noodles roasted, and cooked in milk and sugar

Imambara: A shrine in the city of Lucknow, India built by Shia muslims.

Charminar: one of the oldest minarets in the city of Hyderabad, India.

kameez: Indian wear for women
Taqiyah: Prayer cap worn by Muslims.
zari: threadwork

For dverse Poetics where Mary tends the bar. This was an old piece and thanks to Abhra's twitter feed i got time to polish this. A bit more is required, well, revision is an on-going process. :)