Haiku

White skin on the sky/
Lying tranquil and silent as/
A dream so silent/

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Daily Journal

I was traveling the whole week. My daughter got admission to a dental college in Ludhiana and I had to take her luggage. I get Goosebumps whenever the flight is taking off. There is also a sense of excitement when the full throttle is put on as the body jerks on the seat. Mid air peeing is a raw sense of delight. I missed 5000 bucks by one digit. Curse my luck. Today was a slow day with nothing much to do. I wanted to read Sade’s novel but left it for another day. I wonder where my writing is leading me to. I don’t know for sure. I got a chance to make love. Need money to pay her and book a hotel room. May be a windfall will come. My body is an earthly hedonist. My soul is an ephemeral egotist. Sex is a tranquil dream. I met many women in dating sites but all of them turned out to be scammers. My literature has reached exhaustion. I have christened it with death. Had a drink at the airport—red label scotch—it cost an exorbitant sum, a thousand bucks. Thank goodness in some airports in India, there are smoker rooms. When I am in it I smoke a lot of cigarettes. Sartre said: a smoker experiences the universe when he or she smokes. I met a sleeveless woman in the smoker room. Felt like giving her a good fuck. I am a literature of nothingness, a floating opera, a garbage pile in streams of consciousness. I open a can of worm words and write sentences of dust. Chance and luck be my good buddies. See me through the good days ahead. Nirvana, you are a lover consciousness. One has to live in language and also die with it. Time you are can of worms. What is the language of the serpent? All lies and deceit! My halo is my phallus. Awakening is a ritual and playing is ecstasy. From death I am reborn again. I hurt her feelings. She had an accident. I feel sorry for her. She has been my significant other for many years. We met and made love in Kuala Lumpur and Indonesia. Making love to her has been a poem for me. Art, I owe you much gratitude. As the years go by, I want to lead a much easier life. Yes, I regret missed opportunities, goofed up interviews. When will good news come to me? Luck, plant a sunshine in me. Good times are yet to come. Consciousness, you are floating dream. Karma, have I done you any wrong. Time, kiss the wounds of angst. Let the feelings soar like the wings of a phoenix. Memory, I have touched you many times in wounded dreams. Adultery is the sweet passion of life. Let me heal myself by writing literature.

A Travelogue from Ludhiana

Ludhiana_Montage

Ludhiana is in Punjab in the Northern part of India. I was there to give my daughter’s luggage as she had joined a medical college there. The flight from Delhi was a rustic, old one. The dinosaur plane had propellers outside and throughout the journey it was shaking like a windbag swaying in the breeze. Thank heavens I landed finally in a tiny airport having just one room. There was no conveyer belt for the baggage, but just a platform. To my good luck, there was only a single cab and I had to pay through the nose, a thousand bucks to the hotel. The streets are crowded like sardines, jam packed. The taxi missed other vehicles by inches. I marveled at the skill of the driver. The driver was hardy Punjabi with his stout turban and he knew smattering English and I started conversing with him. I could see cops all the way through, armed with light machine guns. The nation was on red-alert as it was celebrating independence. I could see an array of colorful turbans. Traffic was so uneven and cyclists were vying with cars. Cycle rickshaws ploughed through the traffic in sweet relish. Sweat oozed from the rickshaw drivers. The streets were narrow and dingy. Whole arrays of shops were selling a host of things like sweets and other Punjabi delicacies. Traveling through the streets, time takes ages. I went to my daughter’s medical college CMC. The buildings were quaint and bore the relics of the colonial empire. There was a beautiful little chapel in front of the college. I relished Punjabi Tandoori chicken with Nans made from flour. On the whole, the trip was an enjoyable one.