Moon at Half Past Noon

(Madhushala has a progression that mirrors our progression in life from childhood onward. As we open our eyes to the world, our senses start to absorb life like a sponge. We are drawn to life’s offerings like a lover of wine is drawn inevitably to a bottle. In the next verses, we see the perils of seductive nature of life’s temptation.)

Listen, chime bowls sing, when cups kiss and intertwine,
Listen, the veena rings, in a jingle, maiden’s steps align,
The seller’s chide slides and shuffles like drumbeats so fine,
Melodic chatter, infuses ecstasy is the tavern’s wine.

Hennaed soft palms bear a ruby cup of sweet wine,
Golden maid in grape veil, pours with a glow divine,
Purple caps, blue robes, drinkers stand bold and fine,
Rainbow vies with the hues of the tavern’s gilded light.

The cup teases my hands ere it’s truly mine to hold,
This nectar beguiles me before lips sip the wine,
The hostess will dally, resist with a craft designed,
Traveler, persist, though the tavern withholds the wine.

Red stream slithers like a flame, name it not a fire,
Call it not a scar of heart, but frothy wine so fine,
Agony is joy, wine brings, when memories conspire,
Ecstatic in grief, you should visit this tavern of mine.