I hear them everywhere
From the Bay of Bengal
Do they rise
A high pitched resonant
Series of soaring claims
And reach the snow clad
Peaks of Uttaranchal
Gradually melting away in
The low ebbs and flow
Of the Ganges.
Like every evening
The bells ring and sing
At Dashashwamegh.
Pegions settle down every morn
To have their pick at the Gateway.
I hear them at Gaza
And the Swath valley
Fighting the callous calculations
Of a totalitarian ambition.
I hear them –
Voices of silent drums
In the hills of Mewar
As if coming from another world
Echoing melodious beats
In spite of recurrent
Droughts and hunger.
I hear them in my dreams
Of warm companionship at St.Vincent’s
Watching the world
From atop the lighthouse.
They come to me mysteriously
Not like the ones from
St.Catherine or Margret
But they too tell me the truth
The changing contours of the world.
