Swaminarayan Temple - Bhuj

The white marble pillars stand.

Ooze warmth - by touch icy cold.

Chiseled with magical hand.

Tales engraved of history old.

Heaven-high shine the gold domes,

like descendants of the sun.

And the bells toll, echoes roam,

alluring far horizon.

Sculptor charms the creator.

Sculpture is the narrator.

Hyena

The evil lurked in the dark

as its hunger pangs grumbled.

The intent -  brutal and stark.

The laugh  - foxy preamble.

It limped away through a bush,

scenting and stalking its prey.

Skilled to create an ambush,

swift with razored teeth to slay.
Fooled not be by gait so slack.

Whistle could bring in its pack.

White Desert - Bhuj

The sun takes its golden dip.

Full moon splashes snowy glow.

Spellbound by the artist’s grip.

The cold winds whistle and blow.

Deep, beyond the vastness spread.

Shrouded by a salt carpet.

The pinch of the desert’s bed -

offers to tickle us wet.

Cheers echo as mugs clink.

Our silhouettes watch us drink.