“MORE THAN JUST SAND”

 Lynette Colaço (1997)

I had become accustomed to the crickets serenading me to sleep,

Watching the sun melt into the horizon,

The cakes of fresh dung along the roadside,

The bucket baths full of fire-warmed water,

The taste of the tea.

The smell and taste of the freshly baked bread

and the pleasant morning walk to buy it.

I remember the buses and how scared I was

A talent , I say

How two let alone one bus fit on those roads was beyond me,

No fear.

I was told anything was possible in India.

I remember walking to the market.

The blatant stares following the moves of a 'foreigner'.

I looked at them and then myself,

Then I thought of how the thick paste of coconut milk blended in a curry.

My mouth watered.

I looked down at my sandals

and how they had become stained With the indigenous red sand.

I had been told to wash them clean.

But I realized I never would.

If I did, I would be washing away more than just sand