Flowers, leaves and fruit Our flowers and leaves and fruit are here In silver-white plates

of morning fragrance From burning incenses, flames of camphor. Our waters stream between lips and palms. Our flowers shall be flung at framed pictures. Come face to face with the elephant head That laughs on a rounded stomach of sweets The head of a trunk from a severed north On a torso standing guard on motherâ s bath. A father is egotistical of a He that dances in snow hills That cannot wait to see wife He that smears his body with divine drum dance of blue poison bathing in cave, our death-wish.

His prankster son has to eat in his stomach. Pock-marked moon laughs at his bloated stuff. We all love him the way he pats his stomach When he will pace up and down on our roof After a heavy meal of rice cakes and jaggery.

(Tomorrow is the worship day of Ganesha, the elephant-god who visits us every year this day)

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