The old temple walls
meshed in color, discolor
are silent as the birds.
The Ghats are homes to
sinners and saints:
living or dead.
The sun and skies are
involved in crimes; changing
combination of hues.
The old houses even breathe
a little; their heirlooms
far in the cities.
The old bazaars have
intact skeletons; people
visit various malls.
.
The Ganges is turbulent
it hides many sores:
bones, flowers, oil lamps.
An old civilization
becoming an outcast, slowly
crying silently.
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