In Passing

The old man replied,

"You'll find what you're looking for if you keep walking."

"You'll find a temple near that place."

Stumbling through North Calcutta alleys,

gaping at colonial-era buildings,

I made it.

Someone had washed the temple steps

that pedestrians only used

in passing.

I watched where I put my feet,

but the water seeped in, between

my dirty toes and dusty sole.

I felt wet and muddy.

I looked up at the collapsible temple gate,

and there were too many idols on display;

too many to pick one and blame

my misfortune on,

or, to pray the muddy feet away.

I remembered what the old man had said.

I kept walking.

I was near that place.