Our horses do not fly

In Bishnupur our horses do not fly like the horses to our Sun-God’s chariot .Their long decorated necks look pretty but break soon and dissolve into the earth

Our divine Mother’s head broke in splinters , in her father’s uninvited house .Our crumbling terra cotta temples are Godless .Our temple ponds are now washer women’s ghats. Our gods no longer adorn the Dance Hall to witness the divine dance.

We have potato cold storages everywhere and our listless young men are playing cards under the shade of the ancient banyan tree.

Our horses do not fly these days.