I'm finally home after the required visit to sundry relatives. Am glad
I survived the various roadtrips. What do I mean? Well, for me it's
surviving a heartattack at the rate of ... maybe one a minute. Yup,
that sounds about right. My tailbone hurts from all the bumps in the
road.

But I'd do it again.







9 am on the road. We left at 7.30am for my aunt's place in Moradabad, a
small town about 200 km from Delhi. The fog did not disperse till later
in the afternoon. Visibility ranged from ten metres in good places to
less than two metres in others.







The buffalo rest before starting their day, lugging huge loads of
Sugarcane from their villages to the sugar refineries located in the
towns dotting the highway.







Usually the loads are ten times larger than this measly one. The
sugarcane in this cart is most probably headed to a juice shop. It's
been ages since I had fresh sugarcane juice.







Goavas and Chikus. My favourite fruits. Along with Pineapple and Pears
and Pomegranate and Peaches and Plums and can't forget the Bananas.







The traffic gets worse.







Home-assembled trucks pulled along by tractors. They're called "jugad".
I can't quite figure out the best translation for that in English.
They're hustled up out of odds and ends, the only necessary parts being
the engine (usually a farm tractor) and the body which vary in sizes
from long trailerlike add-ons or small bughys. The vehicles don't have
numberplates or any sort of identification. You can usually find them
on rural tracks.  Never in the city. They transport sugarcane,
vegetables or any other local produce including people, over short
distances. Scary shits. They're build to last and don't look around
twice before trying to overtake you. If you get in their way, heaven
help you.







Peanut seller!!! The white stuff is roasted rice grain.It makes a puffy
... er... puffed rice!! phew, ok. So that's what it's called.  It's good stuff.







This was outside my aunt's house. The horse was carting bricks for the house next door which is being rehabbed.



The trip back took a lot longer
than the trip to. The traffic was at a standstill for about two hours.
The only thing to do was sleep.

Baki later folks. I'm trying to bring my pulse back to normal.

I landed in Delhi this morning at 1 am after a four and a half hr stopover
in Amsterdam. My parents didn't see me walk
out of the airport so they kept waiting near the entrance, their eyes
glued to the walkway. I found them standing like that 20 minutes later
after having walked past every craning head that searched for a
familiar face. They couldn't stop laughing. Mom said she had planned to
ask me what colour shirt I was wearing. 

Sat next to a Greek aerospace engineer on the flight to Amsterdam
and
then next to a Bhutanese teacher of Comparative religion on the flight
to Delhi. Interesting conversations. The Engineer talked about
how his girlfriend wasn't doing well in school at all. She's an
electrical engineer. hmm. He did mention that Greece is one of the most
fun places in Europe to visit as are Spain and Italy. Unless I wanted
to do the Artsy tour... in which case never mind. Wonder if my
favourite letter of the alphabet is up for an artsy trip to Europe. I
want to go to Prague. Some day. Some life. When I'm a millionaire.

I wonder why I've never thought of visiting Bhutan. Char yaar, we need
to get on that guys... it's the one place in the world that is easier
for Indians to visit than those over-privileged Americans. Actually, I
shouldn't say that... Bhutan charges $250 a day for tourists. Rich
folks anywhere are welcome. Tell me something new.
Point is we don't need to pay that 250 so let's get on it.

Am tired.
I know it sounds cliched to say this but Delhi has changed so much in
18 months. Well... it hasn't changed at all in some ways, but it feels
like a whole new world at the same time. It's like exploring a new place. yay!

baki later folks. am off to see the wizard... er nani... tomorrow. am sure will have lots to vent about after that.

On a sad, sad note... Machine Error Gives Bush Extra Ohio Votes

From Soobee72's site - "Canadian men (and women) are willing to marry us and save us!  Woo hoo!"

Ha! So funny!

The misery of the blues has led credence to hues of
frolicking pain The greatest thought outgrew the singeing name of brews
enhanced by tears  grow grow grow the night into a blithe torrent of smeared
agony of the heart, the part that felt anew a rolling joint of braking,
grinding names out of the hat they fell and felt a need to pass a circumspect
remark on the outgrown and passing fanciful adieus anew anew the thought that life could never grow apart from
details hanging through a branch of light mildew it is but a storm that’s
passing through. 

Didn't take me long to get back!

It's been a while since I was up early enough to see the sun come up.
The orange darkening for a moment before turning to a sullen gray
turning to a cold blue.

We set the clocks back tomorrow. Could've been today for all I care. That's what I need to keep telling myself, "I don't care."

Can't even remember what annoying soap ad that phrase reminds me of.
Stupid acne ridden teenagers. Stupid people who make stupid ads. Stupid
people who never learn. I hate my homework.

And I need to stop being surprised.

And the morning passes in silence.

The open door exaggerates

the footsteps in the hallway.

The breeze, unexpected,

takes away the heat.

I turn over once more

to look at a wall I cannot see.

In the darkness

the shadows flying, fleeting

run me down

Once again.

Am saying goodbye... for a little bit.

Need to restore some much needed faith

In myself



I close in.



anu

Life always seemed as though it
would get clearer, simpler. It isn't.  It doesn't. I surface once
again. Attempting to decide what I want 'right now'  and what I
think I want from myself/ my life.



I sit, strangely still. Looking,
searching for a memory. Scavenging for that whiff that will open up new
windows of feeling, of  understanding, of acceptance. Wondering
whether it's important to get stoned. To lose oneself to be found.



It's a small place. Cold sometimes,
too full sometimes, too old.
A lost world of breathless scouting,
touching, feeling, needing more ... of what?



I don't know.





Different Roads

One journey

Different Styles

One pace

Does the destination matter?