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awaiting Yama on the banks of Verur river
Gandhi's soul grew a coat of flesh.
mocked on earth and heavens,
gandhi shivered to a cold, dawn wind.
after a hard night out,
Yama stumbled on the stone steps
locating Gandhi.
freshened with coffee at a street joint,
Yama said:
"we know and do not know each other."
gandhi bared toothless gums.
Yama continued:
"You pray to gods;
question them;
insist on solutions;
gods dislike activists."
Gandhi replied:
at kurukshetra god averred to
lovingly owning every soul
ahead of advising Arjuna to kill  --
particularly confusing."
a woman's laugh usurped the stream's gurgle.
fondly feeling a rosary of skeletons
slung round her neck,
she passed by, joyously.
strum of a violin, a few thumps on a
drum. 

"Kali is birth.
Kali is death.
shuns gold.
craves skulls.
with Shiva loiters
favoured spots
in burning ghats.
blushing,
tongue out,
owning up human,
inhuman grime."
Yama replied:
"some say life is maya.
for others god is maya.
saints think maya is
a woman;
a disdain;
a sin.
she and Shiva employ me;
a resident at fiery ghats."
for Yama it is no matter.
OM =  MC2.
unknown=known.
Gandhi, the lawyer, caught
the illogic.
said the old man:
"crave for compassion,
not contradictions."
sheared from gravity,
a protesting earth,
drowned in space.