05-09-06 -- Rendo
Quietly hypnotized
By the odd behavior
Of the old woman walking up the street.
I feared her dark eyes
And skiin;
The strange colored sheets
And worn gray jacket she chose for clothing.
Months before, I had decided
The Tilaka
Centered on her forehead,
Indicated to me that she was a witch!
Most witches have their rituals:
Passing vehicles
Would stop her travel
She would face each and bow down low.
Cupping her hands in prayer,
Returning upright,
She touched her Tilaka
And mumbled senseless words in rhythm to herself.
Throughout this ritual she muttered
Mostly gibberish
That surely was demonic
Eventhough, I could not understand her words.
Eventually, she reached my position.
Where upon,
She would again bow
Place her hands to her forhead and mutter.
She bowed to my tricycle!
I froze!
Then ran screaming
To my mother for her protection and counsel.
"It's the crazy woman, again!"
I cried.
"She cursed my tricycle!"
Mother smiled and replied: "It's just her way."
I discovered many years afterwards,
The truth.
She was no witch.
Nor, was she bowing to cars and tricycles.
This loving old Indian woman
was bowing
To the people passing
As the law required in her former country.
How foolish I could be
To fear
The old Indian woman
Who showed me the greatest honor of all!