Grandma once told me about
A deity outside the village
Who cured the children
Who uncontrollably cried.
He was offered oily Bajjis (=fritters)
She says and my father
Was named after him
To stabilize his cry.
The other deities in the village
Have got elaborate temples
And rituals over the years-
To become lords and
The overlords to the wishes
And prayers of the seekers.
But not him.
Roofless, faceless.
No hands or legs or a
Statue that oozes charm.
This deity is just a puddle
Of a rock upon whom
Vermillion is smeared and
The left-out oil is poured-
When women return from
Seeking all other Gods.
Our shapeless deity who is
Just a rock had only one job-
The doctors now give medicine
To the children who cry and
The oily Bajjis are advised
Against a healthy diet.
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