I am at home, sullen and somber
my mind rushes to my second home,
crosses, intersects, enacts, encounters
being in the limelight, of the Chitra Pournami
festival, I am addressed as Koil Amma.
I missed last year, miss this year too,
unable to fly due to the pandemic.
Visualizing the events of 2019
when my husband was at the helm
the elaborate rituals, enticing offerings,
the Kavadis and pal kudams.. the feast
devotees with tonsured heads,
the cries arohara reached the sky.,
I see the pictures of this year.
which do not reflect the grandeur.
Ceremonies turn modest
devotees are only a handful.
Lord Muruga stays in his abode
does not ride round the town
in the silver chariot.
The second wave in India
turns catastrophic. Caged, I am
confined to home, My mind takes wings,
travels unmasked to the banks of River Bidor
where the Thendayuthapani temple stands.