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.

Shameless Broadcast of a Road Trip-13

The rail track crossing seems I have seen it elsewhere,

risen embankments people they cross and many appear,

dark face wrinkles, sweat on them, stooped on their shoulders,

with bicycles carrying gunny bag, and arrears,

I turn left, and soon the rail track disappears,

well I know still it goes to another city ahead,

so on a lonesome faster parallel track I tread.

To a destination that has nothing but hill and history,

they say it operates with help of tourism ministry,

A phenomenon that to me is a mystery,

villagers commuting next to my car flying free,

‘therwise nothing except landscape on the road to see,

the road looks lonely,

so I say to its unhearing village folkey,

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

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.