O Meerabai, my amar chitra katha heroine.
When the page in which you fell
into the deep blue of your lover’s arms
turned in my mind, don’t laugh,
but I went looking for you
in Hare Krishna Temple
on Avenue Road.*
I thought I saw you
chanting behind a pillar.
His flute is in your voice
but I wish to hear you speak.
He is the absence you seek
and I wish to find you.
As a ten year old, I was quickly endeared
to your child-form clutching your
Krishna-idol. Now a return to my
childhood brings you of the later
pages, where dressed in white
with arms raised you chant his name.
His flute is in your voice
but I wish to hear you speak.
He is the absence you seek
and I wish to find you.
Perhaps if I reach you,
our search might come
to an end,
and you find yourself
in my seeking,
Vrindavan vanish
into a place in our hearts
where gopis
bend over
their reflections
to finally find
Krishna there.
Meerabai, I am writing
a new amar chitra katha,
in which you are Krishna –
woman with blue lotus face,
feathers and flute –
and I am Meerabai.
