Of ancient sin I try to materialize
a logogriph to baffle
as I revisit Mahabharata
and get relieved
when I see Bhishma
that sin is not new
and penance is primordial.
I am probably a newly born saint
of an old age in times new.
It is a classic tale of lie
and pretence in a warrior in fears
surviving in an era of deception.
Of temples filled with crowds
Ungodly,
sponsored by the state mostly
to capture booths and ballots
in an age of dons in religions
and cons in politics.
And I watch
the priest standing alone
singing love songs of yore.
I laugh with the song
and walk out in disgust
to weave another story
of sins in shrines of Gods.
