August 9th, Pandukan, Near Khairagar, Chattisgarh. 4 days after the laying of the foundation stone for the bhavya ram mandir in ayodhya.
we weave through kachcha mud roads. through retinues of goats, and cows trudging like pilgrims, whose hearts beat to the rhythm of the earth’s turning. eyes and tails flap in lazy acknowledgement, as if their entire life is a long day, spent in langour, the contemplation of grass, and the dissonance of people in the theatre of this open sky, and unfettered green.
the Shivnath river, like a well meaning friend, keeping an eye on us, arches its back, and rises like a mother, to encircle our settlers’ awkward limbs from time to time. the paddy field moist with passion, under a resplendent sky, has come dressed in nothing but a thin gossamer drape of rain. trees arch across the road, branches extended.
centuries of yearning, aroused in bark.
Moko Kahan Dhoondhere Bande
Main tho tere paas mein (re)
jai shree ram.