A jasmine bloomed.
The fragrance blew across
and became a flame
dancing through the mist.
Not to sear the land,
only to wake it up.
Rivers flowed into deserts
and deserts met oil wells,
a new storm was
blowing.
Love oozed out,
red on earth
chanting Allah-o-Akbar,
a feeble fist
rising skyward.
Allah responded
not to the
muezzin’s call
but to the
rhapsodical jasmines,
aflame across the
rivers,
deserts,
oil wells.
Bhaswati Ghosh 