Shiv Shakti | Roadtrip via Nashik

The rich

will make temples for Shiva,

What shall I,

a poor man,


My legs are pillars,

The body the shrine,

the head a cupola

of gold,

Listen, O lord of the meeting rivers,

things standing shall fall,

but the moving ever shall stay.

I love the handsome one:

he has no death

decay nor form

no place or side

no end nor birthmarks.

I love him O mother, Listen

I love the beautiful one

with no bond nor fear 

no clan no land 

no landmarks

for his beauty

So my lord, white as jasmine,is my husband.

Take these husbands who die,

decay, and feed them

to your Kitchen fires!

- from Speaking of Shiva

translated by A.K Ramanujan