The eyes get foliage and sunlight scatters,
curvy and twisty slopes we drive and turn into tatters,
while the greeny chromes turn into black and white,
wind gets cooler and soon I am with my kind.
I head solo to the dusky temple,
and see my people are going home,
in the land of Gods where I hear,
Mr. Bob and his friends have roamed.
So, I bow my head see the city lights,
from the top, from the famed Kasar Devi shrine,
Soon I am asking my own people, these stangers,
a hotel where I can drink and dine.
In no time I find a paid homely entrepreneurial stay,
strong and heavy beers have come walking too,
dine in the company of frugal travellers,
they ask you if you have your hiking shoe.
I say yes, and thank you, and so long,
you have a long stay, and a long way,
I am heading home, which is near,
bus is cheaper and expensive are taxi keeping hustlers.
There is no stopping with them,
like water flows, flows cream, Mcdowels and rum.
Another day has passed by,
new friends and old brothers show up and show,
and I can't be bothered why,
For, days are limited I know.
And, now I must head home,
but the shadows here, like silohuttes in Delhi, are attractive,
banana trees, other trees, their leaves and weed,
around are singing,
faith is the only friend,
rest are transcending.
And, I am to remind,
Wait, Dogs? Where are they?
Why didn' I talk to any testerday and today?
Why not even a hello or a bark on the way?
The brother hustler tells me,
here they all have become urbane,
remember Dajyu you have only reached until,
the knee of your mountains.
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