In  ancient Lothal ,a combination could be lethal.

Here  a combinatorial creativity enhanced a pool

To  pretending jetty for far off  ships of merchandise.

Ghosts had done their bit in their broken plinths

Their ghostly footprints disappeared in shrubs.

They had  streets with dirty water running under

And houses of brick and mortar,with living dreams.


The potsherds were all gathered up in a museum.

The ghosts were potsherds , standing on one leg.

Their thin insubstantialness went up to a hot sun

Showing up in cowherd clothes, waiting for  a bus.

The then cowherds along with  cows turned souls

Standing on ,among the potsherds of the then mud.


Mud comes in its  combinations of  things and men.

We break   to reinvent them afresh all through time

Under the same sky, with a blazing sun studded in it.

The next time you visiit an archaeology site look for

Potsherds of our earthy existence among its pottery.


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