The bells ringing from the nearby temple was music to my ears honestly,

The temple was built near a huge (I mean HUGE!) Banyan tree, it was probably the only landmark of our teeny tiny village.

A gita class was being taken where little children were taught the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, but sadly all this wisdom would be lost under the banner of religion!

Under the Banyan

Sit many men women wise,

Sat to teach- teachings of old,

Souls young and ripe

And old and raw,

Under the holy Banyan's hold

Temple coloured natural earthen,

But saffron it seems to some eyes,

Is it olden wrong and modern right?

Or ancient truth and silicon lies?

Worshippers are many and so many roofs,

Beneath which 'gods' under different fences,

Showing- even the almighties divide,

And human race-hates are offences!

Some souls are directed to wisdom,

Most hearts to religion are sold,

Souls young and old

Rot and spoilt,

All under the Banyan's hold.

~Ajay

May 2017

*****

I sit in a lazy cozy chair for lazy I was!

And wind rushed towards me through the plants of Brinjal and Tomato that my grandma had grown on the terrace.

I could hear devotional songs from the Hindu temple on my right and songs of similar nature from a Pentecostal church on my left, and sweet faint sounds of a Mosque could be heard through the rubber trees behind me.

Casteism and sexism was more prominent here than the urban areas, and it had been engraved in its 'culture'

Broken yet united, diverse yet secular, dangerous yet welcoming, poor yet rich- basically a mini India in itself!

*****

Randomness!!

Hey vampire! Why hide from the glorious sunlight?