Where shall I go away one day,

With intensive heat and looHas come,Summer,Indian summerFull of heat and dust,The sun appearing to be a fireballAnd the flames falling around,Scorching it all.But do not disheartened,Take you heartTo beat it naturally,Pause a bit under the gulmohar treeMarking the florid blossoms,Jasmines to fragrance youDuring the night-time,Walk you, walk you.

A pseudo English man,Speaking Hindustani EnglishMixing water in milk not,But milk in waterLike an Indian gwala,An Indian milkman,Who could never be an English manSpeaking English likeIn an English accent,But a lungi manTurned he out to beA dhoti man of IndiaSpeaking EnglishLike an Indian languageLike a Hindi speaker!How pleasant is it to know DubaWho wanted to…

With?Do you want to useThem for the media coverage and profit?Or, want to treat them psychologicallyAnd spirituallyIn a holistic way?

Away from too much human haunt and habitation.Archetypal, ethnic, racial, primitive and aboriginal,Stands it thereonUnder the peepul tree, the banyan tree.Dark and poor, backward and undeveloped, it tellsThe tales of human hunger, poverty, scarcity and want,A hard life it is difficult to pass indeed.

Circling and circling over,How beautiful is itTo see the bird of preyHovering around,Encircling around!The red kiteSoaring on large wings,Unfolded,Scaling and soaring.

And the divorcedCan feel itAnd none the else,Politicize you it not.