P. Raj *

My Maruti cuts through,

The Naag Pahad.

To see a man,

Wearing a pendant,

Of fifty two pearly ghats.

Curling peacefully amidst the clasp,  

Of a warm desert shawl.

Feet dipped in water,

His locks softly smearing in golden grass.

Camels ride,

On his bare chest,

Pilgrims plunge,

In his navel for an ascetic quest.  

He who,

Juggles both a Desert and a Lake,

And keeps a part of Incredible India awake.

* Pushkar, Rajasthan.