Ensconced comfortably in their
cushiony seats,
Dressed in bright saffron and whites,
They deliver soothing lectures,
Sermonizing on the listeners’ plights.
Enthroned high up on a stage,
They move leisurely from page to page,
Coolers hiss and fans roar,
Outside the pandal, the heat soars.
Below in front the devotees sit,
Squirming under the sun’s glare,
Holding on to every word,
Forcing their eyes to blankly stare.
Dressed in finest cotton and silk,
Gurujis pity the commoners’ ilk,
Delivering prophecies on karma and devotion,
They promise to guide us towards salvation.
Hope seeps in every pore,
Enlightenment makes our spirit soar,
The fifty rupee note tucked in the pocket,
Gladly moves for the stage floor.
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