By Nayanika Bhatia
A decade has passed,
She returns to me again faintly,
The tall girl in the first row,
A dutchwoman, who appeared at first saintly.
Her first time in India,
A chance to wear lovely salwaars,
The call to meditate would go off,
In the earliest morning hours.
For ten days, she remained
An enigma, like a statue in palace grounds,
How could someone look so calm,
When my tumult exceeds all bounds.
Bare feet on the morning grass,
The sacred oath of silence,
Distilling the clamor of mind & heart,
And of the world beyond the fence.
I spoke to the her when the silence lifted,
'You appeared so peaceful', I said.
Ah, but that's how you seemed to me,
Yet our stories within remain unread.
By Nayanika Bhatia
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