how does one begin to share the stories
that arrive moment by moment as the days
go by in mother india..?
starting with the bucket showers,
the bucket laundry,
the bucket toilets..
the traffic jams in bangalore,
the earth caked on the inside of one's throat..
the chalk kollams drawn in front of houses,
the dogs..the tea..
i am rusty on the keyboard;
my thoughts can't seem to find
focus to tell the tales..
slow and small to this vast hindustan..
it has changed since i began traveling here in 1976..
the world has grown beyond itself..
the world rests on the head of a pin..