Do you really announce your presence every hour like that?
With bells tinkling and cymbals gonging?
Is there no subtlety that describes you?
Are your colours always in askance of attention?
Who created you?
Who invented you?
Who sat there in devout surrender first at your feet?
Did you have to ask the first time?
If yes, what led you to?
If not, why now?
Why do they bother explaining you?
Why do you need unraveling?
Why do you need to be fought for?
Why is the claim of some upon you?
Why are you not others'?
Who chooses who will touch you?
who chooses who you will touch?
Is your will not your own?
Is your own not yours?
Aren't you poetry's epic?
Aren't you raaga's best?
Aren't you the most picturesque?
Aren't they all your creation?
Or are you theirs?
