A faint note of his flute.
An abstracted Radha
wanders through a
flower garden. She loses
herself in his strains.
Why do you wander
in the forest looking for
him, Kabir teases. He’s
everywhere, in everything.
Entwined in your very being.
Bhimpalasi courts me even
now. Still as shy. Still
as persistent. Soft. Plaintive.
I seek like Radha. Sometimes I
Find like Kabir.
Bhaswati Ghosh 