Poem 9 part II

I moved on and came up to Mahatma Gandhi chowk.
I went into a School building, and saw
Beneath its dome, Lord Ganesha dressed as
Sant Tukaram, lost completely in singing
Of the lord. Didn’t want to disturb him
So left quietly. Sauntered here and there
And came to a lane, where another Mandal
Had put up a Ganesha wearing the sacred thread
Of the Brahmin.

Nearby I saw bags full of gulal;
The same one that we are smeared with
After hoisting the flag. I remembered
My Aryasamajist professor friend
Who distributed prasad with gulal on his forehead
And who refused to garland the statue of Dr Ambedkar.
That time I had surveyed minutely all around to see
If I can spot the national mainstream.

Many such memories tumbled out of
The cupboard. Then I decided
That I would return to my respective
Flock with my one-stringed instrument.
That’s the time when Mullah was calling
Out the flock to Namaaz of Ishan

Came home and took off
The cloak of secularism. Took my mat
Along and started for the Mosque.
I had pretended to be praying on
Three or four earlier occasions. Wanted
To do the same this time as well. But
Half-way to the Mosque, realized
I had no clothes on. Oh, goodness gracious!
I am still at the place where I had been standing.
By this time the Namaaz would be over and
It would be time for chattering and teasing.
If some untoward incidents were to happen on
The Ganesh immersion day? What could I do
Now or then?
As I casually looked up at the sky
I saw Total Revolution
Pouring down heavily
From the peaks of Hastinapur
From the Minars and
From the Ashoka pillars –
Like the Ganga of Bhagirath.
If it flows this way,
I could wash clean my Secular clothes
Hung inside.
Till then, what’s the harm
In slumbering like Kumbhakarna
Resting my head against the boa.