Basavanna Vacana 820 The rich will make temples for Siva. What shall I, a poor man, do? My legs are pillars, the body the shrine, the head a cupola of gold. Listen, O lord of the meeting rivers, things standing shall fall, but the moving ever shall stay. I love Kolkata. It is a magical city, a refuge for millions, a veritable mixed vegetable koorma of belief and language and genetics. However, it is time to move on. I need to mentally digest some of the things I have seen and done and heard and smelled in this rather humanly intense piece of the earth's surface. Therefore, I have booked a ticket to Chennai on the nineteenth. The plan is to stay there a day and then head out to some peaceful (and cheap) ashram or
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