Rolling Stone

Observations At the Cenotaph.

INDIA | Sunday, 25 December 2005 | Views [101]

The serenity of the cenotaphs with the river in the background has been drawing me here since I first visited this place the day before. I sat down by a spot, that I have occupied my previous two visits.

            As a swallow sits in an old putrid tree

Handsome and poignant as a swallow should be,

The sun is glistening as he’s basking

All the long I’m there asking,

What is it that you see?

His wings not bent, but lingering to the extent;

With the wink of an eye, swallow, dear begins to fly.

Over the moon and across the sky,

Up to where the angels sing their dulcet lullaby,

Take my word for it, he whispered gaily,

I see God’s magic daily.

There is an obscene amount of green

So many colours to be seen,

You see,

But I am just wallow,

As a swallow in this putrid tree.

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