Category Archives: pictures
DAILY PHOTO: David Scott Trail, Meghalaya
I’m back after three weeks traveling about the Indian Northeast, i.e. the states of Meghalaya, Assam, Nagaland, and Manipur. And I’ve got a pile of pics.
The David Scott Trail is a hiking trail that was built as a carriage trail from Burma into India at the behest of the British colonial leader whose name it bears. Since it was made for traffic by animal-drawn carriages, it makes for easy hiking. It’s a scenic trail. It should be noted that (like most trails in India) it isn’t well-marked, however, the fact that it is wider than most trails and has old paving stones along much of the route makes it fairly easy to avoid getting lost.
We hiked only the section from Mawphlang to Lad-Maphlang. It’s an easy day hike.
DAILY PHOTO: Prayer Flags, Khardung-la
DAILY PHOTO: Brahmashram of Nandi Hills, Inside & Out
POEM: Kittens Can’t Get Their Legs
Little kittens can’t get their legs.
Feet slide as legs sprawl wide.
Writhing amid a pile of siblings.
Wrangled and nudged by mama.
Tiny screams for leeway ungranted.
Bellies bulge with mama’s milk.
They don’t yet look like miniature cats.
They have neither the proportions nor the ears.
They could as well be puppies or opossums.
From any distance mama sanctions.
[National Poetry Month: Poem #19]
DAILY PHOTO: Grey Langur in a Tree
DAILY PHOTO: Sweetheart, It Feels Like Something Is On Your Mind
DAILY PHOTO: Looking Out Over the Danube, Budapest
DAILY PHOTO: Two Tuks and a Billboard: A Bangalore Street Scene
POEM: Until You See the Flower Floor
It’s a post-apocalyptic scene.
Until you see the flower floor.
Concrete walls, bare but for paan stains.
Looking like a fresh massacre.
A murderous rampage
written in shotgun spatters.
A pack sits, rhythmically rocking,
hands mindlessly at work.
But with their backs to you,
you can’t see they’re stringing garlands.
Looks like the junky fidgets
of a Zombie horde at rest.
The impulse to tip-toe past, rationally quieted.
Then you peer over the rail to the flower floor.
The flower floor is brightness.
The visual gravity of oranges and yellows
exerts such an aesthetic pull on the eyes
that one can’t see any sign
of dystopian dreariness.
[National Poetry Month: Poem #12]






















