Poetry Playground | Jonny Masters | Poetry | General poetry

A Temple in Mumbai

Today, I was looking through old photographs of a trip to India. The woman I write of was exactly as described.

Harry Hogg
Poetry Playground
Published in
3 min readMay 2, 2024

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I saw her lying face down on the marble floor in the Krishna temple in Mumbai, prostrating to her God. She was moving like a caterpillar, kissing the floor every few inches. Her devotion to prayer was almost too intimate to watch.

I looked at her bare feet, weathered and decayed like rotten leather. Her heels were dry and cracked, as wide as an open wound, rimmed in black from one ankle bone to the other. Calluses were so brown that they looked like nails randomly hammered in her soles. Artifacts from a geological dig looked that old.

I glanced down at my bare feet, which were not soft or smooth. My big toenail showed the beginnings of a fungal infection.

It was my first experience. I looked around in awe, feeling like a tourist in a place of worship, everything so new and unfamiliar.

She took her final bow, lips grazing the floor, lingering like a lover who did not want to leave. I watched her get up. She was frail, so frail, but her radiance stunned me. It was like a blinding sun, bright, bright, so bright.

When she exited, I followed behind her. She left overflowing with blessed radiance.

I left, holding expensive leather shoes.

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Harry Hogg
Poetry Playground

Ex Greenpeace, writing since a teenager. Will be writing ‘Lori Tales’ exclusively for JK Talla Publishing in the Spring of 2025