Sunday, January 11, 2009

Rajasthan Rap

Charpoy children, lazy sun.
Sari sisters, mothers, young.
Dinners cooked on flaming dung.
Beggars touch, urine runs.
Fog of dust, squat swept streets.
Bajaj swarms, chai brewed sweet.
Clay red pan spit, bus goat bleat.
Baksheesh motherload,
commission agent cheat.

Goa to Bhubaneswar,
Bangalore to Srinagar,
Jaisalmer to old Bodhgaya,
McLeod Ganj to Madurai.

Horn blasted right of way, black choked air,
Nerve racked bus skin, street cross dare.
Disabled rickshaw meter, tripled tourist fare.
Bedding down on sidewalks, home is everywhere.
Pillow bread bhaturas, dhaba, dhal, and rice,
Lassi’s on the rooftop, soaring vulture flies,
Sandcastle desert fantasy, haveli stone carved lace,
White marble love dirge, Taj’s sunset grace.

Campfire studded mountain stars, Rajput fortress walls.
Lungi lounging servant boy, Kashmiri men in shawls.
Hasheesh hawking rupee hounds, ‘hello’ until you’re numb,
Brothers’, uncles’, cousins’ shops, ‘no’ means you’re not done.

And Ganja flows, and flows, and flows,
Remaining ever still,
Through Varanasi’s burning Ghats,
And flow it always will.

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