Puri Town: Sketch no 27
I can only paint
The way I know
With the yellows they mix with lime
And wait to dry in the sun among sounds
Of pigeons making homes among
Pictures made of salt and sea on walls
That peel like skins of old men
Among film posters with an adult letter A
Splattered with well aimed cow dung by
Children of these winding streets
That somehow still mange to get a sleepy
Winter sun to dapple houses made of cement
Straw and bamboo in unpredictable layers
Of money and time
And uncertain times
To love a town that has been painted over
So many times by the painters
Of old chitrakara artists' streets in bold
Colours on lime on wood on stone on palm leaf
The only way I know
