Betrayal

The face yellowed.

The spine curved. The hands folded.

Darkness rose in the eyes.

Centuries went by.

Great sages came, saints came, poets came

And uttered profundities.

Some said that one is three,

Others that three is three.

Some felt the pulse, some admired the lotus,

Some had a good time, some kissed the fingers.

The people said, We’ve been blessed.

But the little tambourine held out.

The mridang split into the tabla,

The vina became the surbahar,

And we now play the piano.

Dawn breaks. The network of rays spreads

And paints the lips of the cardinal points red,

Making them look like harlots at night.

The culture of betrayal has betrayed us.

1946