Aligarh Poem by desamangalam ramakrishnan

I see some pilgrims,
are they from Aligarh
or to Aligarh.
In which forest
and how far away
the sacred rivulet awaits them.

I see now
a bride and a bridegroom,
are they from Aligarh
or to Aligarh.
In which land
and in which abode
the nuptial bed awaits them.
A piece of the Crescent moon
twinkles on his turban
and in her dreams
there may be a creeper-swing.

Is this road from Aligarh
or to Aligarh.
Which King's tongue reigns here
which slaves are his preys.
Me, as if a moving mile-stone
ask to whom:
whose animal is me.
And this road
grabs me away as my master,
I ask myself:
am I going to Aligarh
or going from Aligarh.

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