A Celebration of Ramadan

Shakin’ with the Sheik

We are by first glance,
A family breaking fast at the table.

Secondly, how bonds, the familial
Type, keeps us in touching distance.

While the treats on the table,
The biryani for the night, chicken pieces

Given a thick coat of oil
And made to water the mouth,

The samosas that are found in a huddle
What the children gather in haste,

While the twilight, lets in the
Smell of jasmines, and the fragrance

Of aromatic foods. The moon capitalizes on
That night, as children congregate

To a huddle of short eats. The house
Is lit all over, with Ramadan lamps,

Kaleidoscopic additions to a night
Of feasting and celebration.

While a child in a pram claps
His hands, seeing the older, bipedal

Children chatter. The noise of innocence,
Around a table, the fervor of an eve,

Forgetting the discipline of the day,
Which had cut the tongue and uprooted the teeth,

Which by nightfall re-grow to their original stature,
To shred pieces of roasted chicken,

And a custom of juggery pudding,
Watalappan, as it’s called locally,

Ends a night of little delights, how
Even the tiniest detail of taste,

And conversation matter, while
Modernity becomes a recluse.

How the mobile phone hibernates
Inside a trouser pocket, banished for the night,

How the absence of ringtones or SMS alerts,
Of a mobile phone, marks the sacredness

Of traditions, when technology,
Observes a state of sheer hermitage,

While we changeover to a different kind
Of Android, no longer robots,

Operating a mobile phone, only love,
Turning skin, into a touch screen.

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