The Epicenter*

I was selling mementos
To admiring tourists
Unaware that their talk
Was not in my favour.

I loved their touch
I loved their voice
And in their smiles
I loved the beautiful eyes.

They loved my land
They thronged my land
Aware of the splendor
Of our architecture.

But I was left unaware
Of foreign bodies
In their blood, spit and cough.
I was exposed to danger.

Nor was the doc
Who looked down my throat
Able to see the microbe
That flew at him as well.

*Dedicated to Bhilwada: