Bare fingers strike pillars 

Plucking Hampi’s songlines

Sculpted in vertical flutes 

Awaken the Vittala temple.

The mandapa draws in 

Split rays of saffron morning hues

Weaving with resonant rhythms

In the tessellating dance chamber.

Having borne the weight

Of concentrically layered ceilings slabs,

Devadasis peel out 

From the corners of the pillars 

Synchronizing heel to toe

With the chimes of ghungroo 

Bound to the rhythm 

Of the mridangam.

Veena strings gently plucked,

Stream fine strands 

Of raindrops in meend

In conversation with the gods.

The living instrument

Permeates back into rock

Through the valley 

Of pink-brown boulders,

To the river.

The black devi across the river 

Steps out of the feet 

Carved in black stone —

Follows the rhythm from the temple

With twirling six hands

And thumping feet. 

The ground quivers —

A slurry of mantra poured 

Over shallow lingams

Of milk, kumkum, turmeric —

Through channels 

Carved on large sloping boulders

Fading into the river.

Poured over the gold mask

Draped in silk, flowers and jewelry

Obscuring the formless

In black monolith

Of the Virupaksha temple.

Hanuman’s shadow drinks

From the abhisheka channel 

Carrying the milky paste to the river.

And another struts

Dispersing the morning sun

Carved by his silhouette

And his spiraling tail.

Apsaras in ivory silk 

Walk out of granite walls

With jari borders and gold jhumkas

Stretching the morning light.

Raindrops form streams

Following channels from the roof

Sparkling lattice of streaming pearls

Through rows of rings in stone

In tiny rhythmic splashes

Onto waves of lotus petals in granite.

Garuda’s chariot 

Waits in stone

For Vishnu’s summon.

The black devi across the river

Leaves the carved footsteps 

Imprinted on rock

To merge with the boulder again

Guarded by the trishul.

Pillars faintly plucked with raindrops

Bear dark smudges on light granite

Now roped off.