Ambrosia

I walk a mile around the road, just to avoid the rickshaw and cut down expenses.

Ten rupees saved by walk –an offering I always keep for the roadside temple.

I do this almost every day without fail.

My daily pilgrimage to the Holy Shrine on tired legs;

I think of it as a penance for the guilt, for confessing sorrows,

and for sharing toasts.

One can see ideas and debates on living life rising as fumes above that roof –

The roof of the temple, by the corner of 7th Street in Choolaimedu.

Near a Neem tree, so pure, our holy temple stood – a modest tea shop for every commoner.

Nothing less than Ambrosia itself is a Chai flavored with friendship, I say,

lifting the weight of this daily routine at the altar like priest and his chalice.

Isn’t a glass of tea similar to the soothing touch of the oldest therapist working her long fingers on every mind?

Sipping this nectar – Heaven’s drink – down here on Earth.

I dare say, a day gone without Chai is blasphemy.

And I walk a mile around, to cut down expenses,

Now that my offering to the temple is done.

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