Tuesday, March 29, 2016

BURLAP BAGS AND OLD DELHI


Dylan's song 
Love Sick is playing.
The words remind me of what I felt when I was walking through India.
Again, I must emphasize the intensity of sights and sounds that I experienced while I was in India.
Ugly and death-like smells came later.
The carnival-like scenes of day had now melted away.
No carnival now.
Somber and gray air was everywhere.
The temperature had decreased.
I saw a dog who curled up and laid down on the embers of a fire to keep warm...or to commit suicide!
I walked.
I walked.
And I walked some more.
This night I was outside of New Delhi and had entered Old Delhi.
Old buildings.
Eerie shadows.
I saw a camel lying in a street's gutter. It slowly raised its head up and then moved it back and forth as if to say "No, no..."
I did not think that this was a good omen.
I kept walking down darkened streets.
Then I came upon a narrow street that was more brightly lit.
There was a small post office on a corner.
I entered, wondering if I could mail a letter, and then walked out.
I came upon a large truck and the back of it was piled high with fat burlap sacks.
I had no idea what the sacks contained.
Then I climbed on top of them.
Why?
Maybe I thought that I could hitch a ride.
Where?
Good question.
A man with a hooked tool was pulling up more bags.
I decided I'd better get off of the bags or I might have something sharp inside of me.
I continued walking and walking until the next sunrise.


IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES


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