Maybe because I grew up in such a culture
they fueled some thoughts in me.
It is a guava in my father’s hand, together
holding also a hand of mine,
Then comes a gentle hand along with
touching as a third to mine.
Kaniga danam as they called, my dad
giving away my hand to him,
Quickly recognized the ritual, my eyes
having a sharp look towards him.
It is now the sacred thread in a plate
entering the stage with a look on me.
Heart pumping high, eyes flickering fast
body sliding towards
and the soul feeling wonderful
which can never be explained!