A poem by our guest writer Lalita Arya ………………………………………………………… I went a-walking, casually strolling in the busy market place, there were roaming cows, munching goats & stray dogs. The open-air stalls were filled with colorful handbags, real & costume jewelry carved wooden images of two Krishnas absorbed in their fluid notes of flutes that Nataraj kept dancing on. The Buddha didn’t hear a thing as he was fast asleep in his meditative state. They were all outside the shop…
