Summer was exhaling hot;
I was walking dryness-surround;
My slipper-less feet bore all rudeness for days.
Food-less, sleep-less, hungry, tired,
My soul dropped its knees;
My hazy eyes glanced a temple near,
My soul dragged my body inside.
A stone-structured, unkept TEMPLE,
In want of visitor’s touch, waiting alone.
My bones touched all of it with my tired flesh;
And I slept.
The coolness of the temple-stone brought Lethe’s water,
I sank in it and slept.
It was afternoon when my eyelids got a knock.
A much needed rest was over.
Surrounded: birds-euphony, rats and hissing,
I stood up.
The unruly shrubs,
Yellow scattered leaves,
The cracks and stone helped me know its long-touched existence.
I moved inside.
Rays were passing through cracks;
Darkness and silence were playing hand in hand;
My deep breathing hold them back.
In front of me was a cleaned sanctum.
Shiva-linga was offered bilva patra by unknown.
The voiceless silence inside,
And outside, that lacks human trace,
Made me think of those unknown hands
Which had done the day’s worship.
My curious vision caught, what it was searching for days;
I found fruits in plate;
I took all the offerings in my hand;
My weakening stomach fulfilled its need,
A cold kamandal fulfilled my thirst.
Nothing had I to offer;
I, a beggar, destitute.
My hesitant legs came outside.
Sun in the west reminded me a long journey.
I cleaned this lost temple from its scatters;
It rose from oblivion.
I offered the toil,
And started my journey towards the dirt road.
Slowly and slowly I walked away.
The temple and its silence saw me passing.
A gush of evening-wind wished me good bye.
The Temple stood there,
Waited for another destitute,
To offer what it offered me,
To offer what IT offers all.
PC: Alamy, Picxy, Shutterstocks