Living in a outstate state

One needs to keep one's memories sharp for that moment, for what is gathered is usually priceless; it takes you to that same wide open plane, that plane of opportunity to do. Evenif you want it to sink in you, you got to follow up for it. Follow up for the individual, and the government he has made. Perhaps, to remember that government must always pay an individual is the mantra.

Testaments through Banjo- Smelling a conflict

It has been a while, and this notepad and open source pleasure pressure demands I put my impressions here. Impressions, which are my dear God Banjo's Testaments about dealing with life. Me and Banjo, one a dog and other a human being, we having been morning walking almost regularly a few kilometers everyday since a couple of years. While the master is on a recompensing mode, the dog is cool about his existence. Seems, the poor dog knows it all what he can do. For example, teach
his master some new bag of tricks on every walk. Tricks or techniques of either creating a conflict, or solving one. The latter one better, that is by running away from the space (/time) or falling asleep at the situation itself. The Dog would communicate with a blank stare, "Let time heal, you better stay out".

For example, early twilight walks when the sun is yet to rise and morning dew is yet to be defined, the stray dogs of Bodakdev would collectively bark at lonesome Banjo in groups, perhaps trying to assert street dominance. However, Banjo likes to be cool about it. The dog would not care or speak(bark), for one he cannot, and second he need not. He is busy and happy, sniffing, using his best skill, and communicating that smells are perhaps the best source of pleasure.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-20

Now that the 'shameless series' is over. I would like to share some photos I could click.

 

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-19

The truckers they are nice,

Most’a them give you pass and let you by,

so let the car dance,

and stay away so you don’t hit anyone,

drifty you are, so are truckers most of them,

they live on the road,

the highway space really, is to them.

Real state changing hands to real estate helps you when,

the truckers lights and colored reflectors start fad’n,

your body is strong but your head isn’t,

you look for an enterprise and soon you find one,

a fat woman, a brave one, of a great country in all directions,

likes to help but is sure of some denomination,

known socialist and drowned in capitalism.

You the road tripper,

you can sink to darkness and rise to light,

a hundred kilometers just remain by,

slow your speed,

look around,

tall trees until were hidden behind,

closed shops shutters,

families loaded in cars and scooters,

buses are overloaded too,

shadow and sun, 

is to all aw them,

they are moving all ways, 

and the road tripper,

as time has become still, 

has been with him, 

and so has the space.

Amen!

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-18

God, omnipresent, can come in the bus behind,

He loves dhaba, suvidha, and cheap plastic toys,

But then you can leave this mela grind,

To see come a dusty market in no time,

primary school teacher is thankful since you dropped him by,

and after-a-while,

see hyper sized colleges and idols in places nowhere and you say why,

where dust blows,

possibly is edge to a declared sanctuary,

on horizon is hills you can see,

beautiful Aravali green and free,

takes a good time to cross by,

reach the town of Udaipur I don’t know why,

see the fort and its kings insecurity,

appreciating his own art, grandeur and army,

as the concept and days of freedom they whizzy.

Old city around is crowded and everything is familiar,

villagers have become hoteliers,

highest stacks for the highest flame in every corner,

holi is to burn tonight and more is to come tomoro further,

right now it is all about drum beats, fun and law and order.

Well, they don’t realize it has always been so,

My own misery,

can’t find a cheap place tonight,

so, drinks become too many and the night,

city closed, highway in open,

so wake up the homeless for some gas,

and pursue the journey,

and can’t sleep tonight because,

Time it is to me. Space it’s unto you.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-17

Days of road, hotel and strangers,

of contrasting skin, voices, stares and colors,

I think all are over.

On the smooth highway swift feels smoother and softer,

with morning dew sweet in my mouth I pass some hundred kilometers,

and another a few hundred after,

leading myself home,

for it has been time that has been to me,

and space I gave to you all.

Unless I decide for a detour,

snap out a turn of a tiring moment,

and rather than south find on the road east,

old civilizations anew living the moment,

their customs, houses, clothes, colors,

it can be seen through the road,

through the grains of dusts,

dazzle of the heat,

and thorns of the desert.

Though their brothers are laying bitumen,

on the sides is sifting sand,

containing civilizations within.

Small cities with fresh vegetables,

has colored bangles buying them,

the same railway track I cross,

bus stand next to it,

chief engineers and collector’s homes I pass again.

New roads new signs but still they confuse,

and in India you ask even if you are not lost,

and sometimes in exchange you have to give a lift,

your time it can be to you,

but you have to forego a little space then,

simply you cannot refuse,

a full happy family loaded behind,

they are to see a new temple of the creator God,

the temple this one they say is the only second,

in the whole wide world,

recognized, by men,

armed by retired gun-men,

who won’t allow cameras, only faith on your face,

and thankfully reminding,

Time it is to me. Space it’s unto you.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-16

Enough of restaurants and hotels,

enough of booz and chickan with teens, an’ alls,

one teen boozer says, hey you just said we are equals,

so please shut up and listen to our sequels,

allow us to fight within ourselves.

We own bikes and boleros and are confident,

will pick a fight for any reason, that moment,

just don’t ask what dis all that meant,

villagers are crazy and not worth to repent,

their roads aren safen’t

for the road trip you ment—ion.

It doesn’t exists,

so enjoy youth and entertainment,

what if for you it is dillusion—ment,

it’s jus that we cannot give any accompaniment.

I say, what dus all dis mens,

pick up my bag, I will go sleep some moment,

will leave as soon as it sun comes,

as,

Time it is to me. Space it’s unto you.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-15

Do you know sir Jaiselmer is a great destination?

The name tells, has beer, dunes, fort, foreign women and men?

Trying to find self in our home,

No one knows what to do them?

We stand in groups and make ourselves lonesome,

offer chai and fried stuff in subjection,

mix of sand duned belly dancing and organic farm irrigation,

to dear friend tourism,

and irritation,

water lines and waste bins leaking it must be adding then,

some nice new smell to the musky environment.

Collector sahib, the man from government,

adds this has nothing to do with taxes or local income,

all we can do is put some local policemen,

put a sign saying force that will give assistance,

because we can never trust our local men,

for there are too many of us them,

also are old men sitting on the lap and shade of good old banyan,

in the fort and the mountain,

with age old stone of sand,

turning desert air into breeze soothing arrogance,

like panchayats let them speak alternate governance,

and allow me to continue the phrase gentlemen,

Time it is to me. Space it’s unto you.