A Cloth of Many Colors

A Cloth of Many Colors

Every color of the spectrum
is there at the break of day          
as early morning bargain hunters
outnumber vendors many times to one          
in saris of red, blue and green,
yellow and saffron and every shade between. 

The newly wakened world of clear blue sky                    
and burnt soil is confounded
by a sea of color and a cacophony of sound
from shoppers and traders competing
with the squawks and squeals
of unsuspecting chickens and lambs.

The shanty school proclaims its purpose                    
in motley posters and paintings and pictures
and prints shouting aloud
each proud pupil’s personality          
temporarily subdued in modest uniformity          
of pristine blouse and khaki shorts.

The air is rich with the scent                    
of sandalwood and saffron, cedar, cassia and clove
and calm descends with the shrill whistle                    
as each overpopulated class          
makes to the cool shadows
of its alfresco banyan space.

Downtown the whirring sound from
many storeys of fragile-looking timber towers
eight or nine or ten storeys high                    
piled with bolts of many-colored cloths
to cut and clip and sew and stitch          
for a handful of coins a day.

A kaleidoscope of color,
a haven of happiness                     
- tumbling like a pack of fragile cards
and losing twelve hundred lives                    
in sixty seconds of mayhem and misery
in Dhaka in Bangladesh.