Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-12

This oasis city Badmer easily it lets you in,

a small radius as it always has been,

should have some craft the guide books say are genuine,

but the city is dirty and dusty no one knows what they are building,

can use a government guest house to live within,

just for a night and I will have seen it all in a whim.

Couldn’t find any artisans the guide books tell of,

only crazy gay youth couple drunk at station looking to go home far off,

paired in groups you have sometimes hear of,

hospitable bars, good for writers, loners and drunkards,

and discards,

people focused going home, watch sellers, air force officers and mining company employees are,

I only can talk of.

Thriving village with glittering shops in lines,

youth sitting in groups,

nothing to do, thinking to join some great college,

Get a qualification get an edge,

a future there then to dream of.

Day light in static town,

even more static the guest house and around,

various men sitting turbaned,

pulling bidi puffs good for lungs,

broken or golden tooth grinning in clean air whistling,

morning dew of the desert morning,

seeing all static space with them all, I tell them all,

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

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-11

The car humming is subtle and eager,

to cross that line of state,

drawn by some age old unseen rulers,

now belonging to administrators,

perhaps brilliant as loners,

or as good as loaners,

and’s why want to protect this culture.

Drawing these lines, as it always has been and will be so,

the day gave way to evening low,

the Land again turns to barren and sandy blow,

people on it seemed had somewhere to go,

one of them me I have a ship but nowhere to row,

sailing, cruising and unlike me not talking,

not even to myself,

while,

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

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-10

Four or five brothers, some squatting on the wall,

some lazing on the cot.

They smoke endless bidis,

grin for their brother I have brought back somehow,

faster than the mobile phone they agree now.

Great food full of love and family,

then the great perpetual borewell,

along comes biking a friend looks a local biker,

crazy landlord now also a bootlegger.

Soon becomes a great friend of mine,

treats me like a king brother serves salad, wine,

and his connections, and slaves squatting,

some trying to connect, some can’t comprehend.

Also a bank which will give has its loan officer,

asks for such plenty signatures, says,

no need to read, thumb signs will do,

will make a good loot of acres.

The squatting grinners, for them it is all a game,

a feet above is the better of them believes in shame,

alcohol cannot escape so along is a loan retriever,

to show it’s really only a gamer.

The heat is strong, sleep is all we should do,

preferably like this, all the while, under the tree,

the fresh air is look so natural so addictive,

no chemical all organic,

Nah! not my cup of tea,

you have it, I have to leave now,

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

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-9

The car is rolling,

so is the whiskey.

On the four lane highway,

I need only one to swivel,

home ground sir your ground my ground sir,

Banaskantha district is all ours and it is here,

crowded toll gate it is right now,

don’t pay this time make the road clear.

Sandy it still remains,

green taking over dry blue skies,

take this side road for my house,

a few miles then there’s food,

only bajra ka rotla, plus ghee, no rice,

that’s okay and it’s nice,

but need to pee sahib,

so stop here very moment on this aisle.

Dear turban ragged sir how are you,

hold my whiskey bottle please for a while,

while I pee on a discarded hut now left to grim,

and relief gives power to observe,

green land, bungalow, factory, and such prosperity so trim,

my view belongs to me not him,

he drank all my bottle and returned a grin,

sweaty feet mine, and whole of his body too,

not yours dude?

No sahib, been just walking by,

to my village nearby,

give me lift sir I live at the close sight,

a small village somewhere inside this road you are going by,

no sorry, we are late plus you drank my whiskey all,

not left a drop for me so good bye,

Time is to me. Space it’s unto you.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-8

The road just got wider,

maybe smooth and better,

an expensive toll booth,

ten years back one point one hotels are replaced by four,

with their special ace see room.

Arid breeze was breezy anyways,

no bath needed still now fresher in a village,

Patanka we call it and we will always,

friends you meet after long years,

young have grown older,

older could not do better.

They still hold their sun burned clear lined faces,

with same concern and smile,

bidi and chai eagerly they offer.

Cow dung and drains prosperous darken the village,

the excreta still clean, plastics color the mix,

clean breeze cleans all,

even sweat which stays, with,

full of innocence and happiness of the rural,

static and fresh always the air not need a conditioner,

trust open windows no doors and repeating fan.

Sky virgin clean and lake dry with dust,

the rural roads still that curvy and thinner,

a long night sleep, unending open morning,

unended open spaces, fresh air when relieving,

Not hushy the early morning, need to be moving,

people sitting and talking, saying bye, some remembering,

unending lifts they and unending nagging,

sir, see my village too, it is greener,

has same love, peace and stillness where,

Time is to me. Space it’s unto you.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-7

A long lost friend is happy to see,

surprised he is and I can see,

a decade back he lived with me,

drove my jeep all night and in hours of wee,

now lives with his family,

but still we see,

again me in him and him in me,

checks my new car says must have been a nice ride,

let us park it, under the shade sahib.

nice neem air is in a cluster of huts living by,

nobody knows Varahi, Santalpur and the cultures they have kept alive,

living together a small hutment of a brotherly muslim clan,

many times blamed for doing Pakistan,

few houses, a dargah, goats, dogs, hens, friends,

a tired horse travelling from lucknow to bhuj,

tired midway,

has shine whiter than sun,

many more things in that stillness, seems no end,

let us have food sir like to have chicken?

I say problem of cholesterol, cannot have none,

also don’t cook me in oil, or let me make my own.

Help yourself Sahib, some my wife has made,

some you can on your own.

and a lot we ate,

hot sun got hotter at the mid-day,

great home but bad house could not keep that heat away,

we have air conditioner, a car, a highway, that will be better I say.

Stay up for a day or two,

My reflection asks me to,

but, cannot dude, later,

Time is to me. Space it’s unto you.