A poem from Prartho’s new book, ‘Elephant Raga’.
Yes, it is possible, I suppose, that he
hypnotized us and we only imagined
ourselves in those silent depths—
that he tricked our minds into peace,
our bodies into ease, created the illusion
that we were whole.
And yes, perhaps we merely felt as if
we were loved… with abandon…
He smelled like rain and his voice
made my bones hum like a thousand dulcimers…
Yes, it was probably an imaginary wind
that brought us to his feet and blew us back
into lives that are now, somehow, on fire.
And I suppose one could make the case
that he faked the whole thing, that he
was just like the rest of us—lost, tiny
as a grain of rice in a bubbling kettle
of stars. He may have only brought laughter
to our days and dancing to our feet, only
made it seem a blessing to be alive.
No, sirs, I have nothing to show.
None of us got rich or made ourselves
a name. But often I find my pillow wet
when I wake in the night and think of him.
Read Madhuri’s review
Elephant Raga by Prartho