Suspect

We, devotees, were asked
To go through a metal detector,
Frisked for belt-bombs
Our bags were searched
Life-weary faces scanned
For suspicious looks
We were looked at pointedly
For telltale body twitches
That would give away
Any evil designs
I expected to be asked
To declare my faith
In the presiding deity
Even recite a sloka or two
To be found out
The sun-soaked courtyard
Made us hop on bare feet
I stopped by the temple tank
Thinking of the bard
Who dared to question god.