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.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-14

It takes some good legs to climb a hill,

way to Rajasthan’s forts now free for cars and honking,

unless you enter someplace somewhere something,

for example, this one, Jaiselmer fort, a settlement sinking,

has tourists and Indians lazing, hunting and drinking.

Scrambling against stones, freedom, clothes and the carving,

hotels are everywhere so no problems sleeping,

in the name of tradition filthed with God and Princing,

all for livelihood which I and you should be earning,

just at the gate half hill at car parking,

show I am confident and I am ignoring,

the guide is shouting,

in case it is his help I may be wanting,

I say I can’t be depending,

because right now,

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