I BROKE OUT FO THE COCOON,BECAME A BUTTERFLY AND FLEW AWAY.

Dear all,
Wrote this article, against those who want to stop the world, from coming to India, hope you like it.
Regards and Xmas, Cheers.
Vikramjit.17/12/08India.

Welcome to India.



India the largest, historic, archaic, red stone, white marble, pink marble, teak wooded, jute rope tricked, elephantine, serpentine, tree lined, rail lined, rainbow colored, wet, dry, cold, hot, sunny, cloudy, starry, sky line, red in the summer evenings, foggy in winters, dome shaped mansion, inhabited by a joint family, for centuries, living, loving, fighting, dying, leaving, rebelling, dreaming, of greatness, sadness, longing, fulfilling, where children bare bottomed running to mothers, working, hoeing, watering , expanses, amidst buzzing flies, oppressive heat, sweaty brows, parched earth, dry river beds, sheer drops, sudden lakes, fresh water falls, mangroves, still, silent, hearing the sound of the falling leaf, as it rots, with buffalo, goat, monkey, camel, dog, cat, crow, sparrow, red breasted robin, peacock, eagle, vulture, man, man child droppings, smelling musty, musky, rusty, becoming manure, for the golden wheat fields, water logged green rice fields, white bobbing cotton fields, yellow mustard fields, swaying in the wind, blowing from the Himalayas, catching the whiff of the dew on the snow splattered pines, the red butterfly, dancing to the onset of winter, the spring interlude, of purple poppy flowers, and crickets cricketing in the night, to the waltzing fire flies, under diamond skies, on long grey roads, connecting, village, to village, city to city, people to people, color to color, language to language, dialect to dialect, style to style, mingling, melting, in sweltering metropolises, with steel high rises, glace façade, traffic, shops, trinkets, bangles, beggars, carpets, incense, Buddhist, Sufi, mendicants, snake charmers, aphrodisiacs, spices, red chilies, rice and fish curry, lime and soda, mangoes and guavas, mint and coriander, beetle nut and cardamom, leading to secret nooks, well known crannies, where spiral stairs, take you to children playing the flute, learning from the master, as the river flows, on it the boat, traversing the gentle flow, guided by the boat man, singing the song of the graceful beauty, who sat one full moon night, radiant and silver, waiting for her lover, as temple bells rang, and muezzins call, the faith full, who bow down and chant, renditions, to the gods, he blesses all, and the rain falls, in torrents, and wet to the skin, giggling lovers, rush across the road, to warm them selves, with the charcoal brazier, on which, a cob of corn crackles, as the stooped old man, fans the embers, un-mindful, of the hustle and bustle, whistles and horns, cars and busses, commuters, drinking tea from the tea stands, in small cups, talk endlessly, over head, neon signs, entice, excite, the vibrant young, with doodling phones, jingles, re-mixes, pink and cherry, red and auburn, dazzling loveliness, smiling pearly whites, full breasted, silver tray in hand, marigold flowers, magical and mystical, deep and sensitive, calls you, welcomes you.

Vikramjit.

17/12/2008

India