Vesak 3


The gratuity of a pandol,
A spectacle in light, or a Dansal,
Where they give ice cream,
Or a whole meal.

What has no price,
No motive and no gain,
As people flock, not just to fill their
Famished tummies, also to be part of festivities,
To be one with a celebration
Of what is priceless.

What needs no invitation,
What needs no riches,
Just people queuing on the road, quenching
Both hunger, and curiosity,

How it takes a special feeling
To stand in line, the revelers
Who go on bicycle,
Or on foot,

To the spectacle of Vesak
The many forms of light traversing the eye,
Bigger than a twinkling star,
Or a strutting moon,

How an aureole lit by bulbs,
Firing in many patterns, quenching,
Like what a Dansal meal, is to the tummy,
The obsession of two eyes, to be one with,
The plurality of light.

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