Other Poems by Jean Arasanayagam

The Ruined Gopuram - Jean Arasanayagam

Somewhere lost landscape

White sands and palmyrah fronds

Freakishly black,

All evening the pyres burn

Beside the broken walls,

The ruined gopuram.

Caves darkened in the evening light,

The turquoise seas bright with morning sun

Dimmed and went black.

Unknown goddess, guardian

Of the freshwater spring

Is silent.

The Brahmin chants his

Pooja to the gods, camphor

And incense stream out

Of the stone door into the evening light.

On the shore, the ruined temple's

Silent bell is cracked,

Thickened ashes falling dead,

There are no bells

Left for mourning.

Durga Pooja

It's the women's day at Pillaiyar Kovil

One of those special days when they worship

Durga, sing thevarams, worship-songs, to bring light

To the dark days in their lives.

The women bring with them large ripe limes

Squeeze on the tart astringent juice from the fruit

Into the inverted limeskins, add ghee

Immerse tiny spirals of twisted cloth wicks

Into each thin-skinned bowl

Light myriads of twinkling flames.

The hours change from darkness into light

As the women gaze into the revelations of their

Lives, their bodies enveloped in the glow of

Shimmering rays, silk against their bodies

Red flames, braided flowers, white threaded

Jasmine red-tinged, gold thalis round their

Throats, gold bracelets, anklets, rings with the sheen

And lustre of those shimmering rays

Women's bodies, glowing flames, giving out light.

"It's a woman's thing," my husband says,

"Go and see it for yourself

Witness the forces of good embodied in light

Overcome forces of darkness, the hidden evil."

Is it only women, I think to myself

Who pray to Durga for this transformation

While the male gods look on

From the safety of their niches.

Don't those women-prayers, thevarams, the slokas

Reach their ears too

As they wait their turn to be approached

The aalathi lighting their faces

As they wait to be propitiated?