Pleasure to My Eyes

Many times
Decoration is the goal
From the food on a plate in a French restaurant
To the body inside a casket
We decorate
Even thought we are very transient
Like sand paintings or mandalas.

My mom decorates the wall
In our village with rice paste

The sushi, the chocolate moose
The tie the guys used
The scarfs to cover the head
The cover of a book

The saris
That has whole mahabharat painted on it
Or with golden foils and silk embroideries
Can never think of washing those in washing machines.
The salwar kameezes of East Asian women
The colorful dresses of the rural women
The sarongs
The kimonos
Fur coats
From all different parts of the world
The gloves
The shoes of the maharaja style
And the sombreros.

The cars
The umbrellas protecting Thai or Japanese girls
The night gowns, kimonos
And the underwear
That only a privileged few can see

The esthetic exudes out
From the shape of the flowers
From the wings of the butterflies
From the ice crystals
From the cells inside the pumpkin stem
And from the interior of the virus
That embraces us and kills.

We decorate and get decorated
From the cradle to the grave
Spend the interval
Looking at the night sky
Sunrise and sunset
In this museum called universe.

((*.*))

Babru

March 2008