Again, Dawn At Puri By Jayanta Mahapatra

The break of dawn Contrasted with Faith and doubt, Faith as frail as dawn-light Followed by doubt Casting aspersion with regard to The utility and validity Of adhering to In so piety and virtuosity. The dawn will come and go, So is faith Shaky and full of disbelief, The widows past their prime, Lying in utter submission, Queued in rows, Looking distraught, What to seek for When interest itself is not? The vast sea scape Of the Puri temple complex Adjacent to, With the crows and the skulls, Rituals continuing, Sands shifting, Pyres in flames, The trails of smoky blaze Doing the rounds Telling of life and the world Otherwise. What it to get from, What it to lose, Where to go, How the faith sustaining by, What the truth, Heaven and Earth contrasting And contradictory With the crows crowing And cawing for hunger, Want and scarcity of food, Priests and clients And middle men all engaged in? The most frightening is the view Of the tonsured men On the ghats, The places nearer to water bodies By the crematorium Of the beach, The pyres, logs and the skulls On the holy sands of Puri Perhaps looking like metaphysicans, Vedic, Upanishadic classical pundits Also telling of what it lies it here.