Earth was an orange like planet
when he opened his tiny mouth
and I watched him from a Garden
where flowers bloomed.
In misty mornings I wrote nothing
but about my village monsoon
and about dusty taar roads and black holes
All again about a God, people laughed at
It is true but he was there in that pillar
And I watched him from the walls behind;
from that day I turned towards him-God
and in my hand he gave me a block of butter,
sure, stolen from a mud pot; from Gokul
and when he held Govardan
I heard the thunderous swords of Indralok