Faith in Calcutta


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Orange flavoured ball echoed by a silver plate.

Honking giant metal geese, angry eyes of red.

Zooming,wheeling, almost colliding.

I clutch at anything I can but all I can reach is faith.

A fat man, a god’s man, clad in white, the mark of the holy, on his forehead sits.

Leave your shoes, offer this and that,

And thank me with,

All I’m asking is,

All you must pay is…

I barter my faith.

Then? Then I meet shining brown faces, baked just right,

Hot out of oven, hope in their eyes.
Dancing, debating, grateful, learning. In them

I harbour my faith.

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6 thoughts on “Faith in Calcutta

  1. I can’t put my finger on it but this poem is so unique and so real. It must be because the character of the writer is right in every line. I can’t even begin to comment on either the content or the execution, only that it was way beyond ‘worth reading’ and I just followed the blog so I can experience more.

    Stay blessed. Your faith is unmistakable, almost tangible.

    • Thank you! Yes, I am apologising, interesting that you spotted that. It’s the way things are here but i can’t reconcile myself to it. Religion is a business that feeds many mouths in the name of God, but at the price of spirituality. I’m left at a loss. 🙂

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