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When You Meet Your Former Husband on a Road An Indian girl of six or seven, walking down a road near her village, sees a man she recognizes. Approaching boldly, Shantih tells him: "I was your wife in my former life. Our house was down the road beside the fields, a kilometer from the well. The flavors you loved were cardamon and mint. Our money is hidden under the altar--you’ll find it there." Hastening home, the stranger sits alone in his garden engulfed by oceans. His second wife brings him tea in a mustard bowl. He doesn’t check for the money at once, knowing it’s there. At last the wrathful storm pulls back, revealing spiritual essence: two drops, like purest rain, one containing the other. After meeting the man on the road, Shantih remembers another world and the Lord Krishna: "Now, my daughter, return to your people: tell them about the afterlife so they can have faith." As for the stranger, familiar to her as father or brothers, recognition doesn't touch her knowledge of pleasure--wading the river, baking pita, braiding her mother’s hair. Castanets in carob trees clatter Krishna’s praises: "Yes, Shantih. When you meet your former husband on a road, respectfully tell him what you know, wish him well, then run home to your mother!" |
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Issue #28, August, 2002 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.