Friday, September 7, 2007

The Tinkle Of Those Gunghroos [a sonnet]

Tap of feet shimmering in my ears,
Eyebrow raised, ivory neck adheres
To Sitar stirring notes of dupatta flowing,
Unforeseen: A Deity in a lotus bowing.

Fingers touch, caress, divorce each other,
Flute, matki, ghat- a form, yet another.
Tabla narrating a Bindravan romance,
He twirls to the flute: Is he in a trance?

Dha Ge Na Ti, Na Ga Dhi Na,
Dha Ge Na Ti, Na Ga Dhi Na…
Suddenly he freezes: a moulded sculpture
A leg raised, hands united in prayer.

Do the Gods beguile me; is he a mirage?
Divine clay immobile he, becomes the Nataraj.

1 comment:

Diya said...

lovely piece of writing.. captures the very essence of the dance form... i loved the last four lines in particular... brilliant imagery there!