JM5‏ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו, מלך העולם...Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam...

her eyes speak the silence of how they left a long time ago with wealth abundant clothes, books, and a pinch of mud. the shelves lay bare lifeless and open waiting to be filled, no one brings anything. the walls yellowed, mouldy and cracked smells of unwanted longing. unkempt belongings, lie hither thither no order prevails, none exist. outside, the world moves tourists come, peers inside her home, the ruins. they look through the looking glass amused at the kippah and mitzvot seeing the remains of the day. seconds become hours, when there is no one coming her frailness is the culture's doom, her silence is the mischpacha's death.


Maybe we did traverse similar roadsIn your infinite trips to Kochi as a child Maybe we did take walks around the town Play in the molten sand, got wet till our knees Prayed for a wish in the dark alleys of the quintessential church Maybe we did capture photographs In the cobwebs of our memories past Only to process them again, today As we walked talked in the streets of the quaint town Gazed at ships yonder and ate melting ice creams Or kneeled in front of the Lord Only to traverse through syncopated time