LEAVING INDIA

India is a contagion.
There are days, experiencing
the steam of the the earth
the purple, deep reds of its turn
the thickness of the air
the inescapable insistence of
surrender
to the heat, the insects, the creatures
the weeping and recovering skies....
watching the bright saris  move
through the rice fields and
feeling the hard hard labor of the
black red black skin
over bones. The smell of sewage
the smell of strung garlands,
the tinny diesel truck rumble
and rake against the
quiet of the day
or night
or day
the hint of constant chatter
constant chanting from a temple somehwere nearby
some god asking for obeisance
some dream seeking a line in the queue
the sound the heat coating
the monkeys, the red dog
coating crimbling construction and
raw electricals and open sewage seeking to hide itself.
Damp wrapped candies
half dissolved from heat
still stick with sweetness.
These days in India are like a contagion.

I was so moved by the light in the dasa's eye
as he described the greatness of India
its history, tradition, politics,
gods, demigods, ruin and
call centers.
"Bangalore... if you are not doing my work in India.. then
you are working at a call center in Bangalore speaking
to surly American. Ah. A wonderful opportunity
to practice divine forgiveness."
The hope for India's return aftr
centuries of poverty and confusion.

I must sya , just riding in Chennai traffic quickly
dispels any instant visions of greatness to come.---
the great chaos of trucks and cyclists,
girls in saris riding the backs of mortorbikes
the wafting fabric just inches away from belching fumes
and churning wheels
and the destiny of Isadora Duncan.

My trip continues to pull me effortlessly
through this edgeless experience.
Buoyed by in dwelling G-d and Sanskirt vibrations.
I now move with the day.


I just came off the place from Chennai.
A sleepy place full of Indian flu virus.
More contagion that has settled in the country
with the monsoon rains.

Now the sound is of efficient German attendants
cracking the indolence offering
"eine omelleten, bitte?" or "vegitarianische, madame?"

oh! and you get to go downstairs to a
nifty gallery of lav's where they have a
real water bar with all the milk chocolate
you can stuff in your hand bag.

I will scrape and buff and soak in Rome.
I am so blessed.
Edgeless wonder to us all.