We were talking
About this and that
The conversation meandering 
Sometimes off the beaten track
Into more private realms
Reticent spaces holding 
Secret reflections, introspection
Ruminations that had rarely seen 
The light of day
Hesitating, faltering, we walked along
That path hewn on the cusp of right and wrong
Where perplexing thoughts lay vulnerable, bare
And then we heard the call to prayer

She rose with an alacrity borne of custom 
With velvety smooth liquid motions 
Like a babbling stream that has
No more reason to be but because
It can flow gliding in its bed of silt and stone
She floated through the ritual 
Sure, secure in the discerning eyes 
Of her faithful world. On the outside 
She had done the needful, the right thing
She came back to our conversation
Her face shining with virtue, beneficence 

But now the doors were closed
To the questions that had peeked through
The heavy, opaque veils of tradition and goodness
Back they had sunk into the clenched depths
From which they had inadvertently crept
She looked at me with guarded eyes
Lest I scratch that surface again
Lest she forget what keeps her true and safe

I smiled and she smiled back at me
“Have another cup of tea”
She said bringing the conversation 
Back to the glittering streets 
Of the daily treads of teeming feet
And I followed, leaving the track
Lit up by mysterious stars and the soul-searching gleam 
Of the moon that now shone on our backs.