Kerala Revisited

If I were born in Kerala, I would wear silver anklets on my feet. I would have doe-like eyes lined with kohl. My hair would be thick and black, drenched with oil. My skin would be dark and smooth. I would smell of jasmine.

My flesh would be made up of fish and bananas, coconuts and rice, tamarind and spices. Sea water would run through every fibre of my being.
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Lean back flat, on the warm stone. Moisture-laden warm tropical night. One calf in a green lit pool. Look up to stars and planets spaced by inky blackness. Focus on one star. Zoom in. Ball of fire. Stay connected for a long while. Feel yourself expand. From a speck of cosmic dust to a whooshing cosmic energy flying around the universe, from planet to satellite, galaxy to star, rings and ellipses to orbs. Feel super-consciousness enter and flow through you. Fame, ambition, drive dissipate. A myriad thoughts checked, unimportant. All that matters is to be. To feel this. Know this.