nolen gur …
the warm taste of winter
on my tongue
ferrying clouds
the boatman
bursts into raga malhar
her flushed cheeks
when she catches him staring
a glowing angeethi
the tart taste
of childhood memories
raw mangoes
a little girl
on her brother’s shoulders –
the Rath Yatra rolls by
darkest hour…
Kali’s smile
in the diya