Red smeared
On your sweaty face
You stop me.
On the streets of Rishikesh.
You demand
Instant reverence.
A kind only reserved
For Gods.
So many events
Happened,
For a Monkey
To turn into God,
The Langur on the tree
And myself, a human, think.
We Think of all
The glorious and
Impossible offerings
We had to have given
To arrive at this moment
In History
For me to
To take on your orange. – How you see me, Man, Monkey, God.