from a different cup.
The servant must eat
from a different plate.
The bullock-cart man
cannot enter the house.
Why God did you make them
different?
Man in a veshti
thundu slung over,
barefoot on a cool earth floor,
sambaranee wafts
as the ghee sounds a sizzle.
The gardener must drink
The servant must eat
He stoops to light
oil lamps, flickering wicks,
flaming coal stove,
the dhall curry simmers,
chappatis on gridle.
The bullock-cart man
The man in the veshti
Freshly made tairu
slightly sweet salted,
ever-silver serving bowls,
sprinkles of chopped herbs
table laid ready with leaves.
Why God did you make
them different?
The guests will arrive.
He’ll wash their sore feet.
Perhaps this will be
his last supper.
Perhaps for this meal
we’ll remember.
(c) Charlene Rajendran 1999
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