Sunday Scribblings Grateful

I'm very grateful for my experiences in India

ONE DAY IN NOVEMBER ‘98

Bring a packed lunch, just in case
you don’t catch any fishes.
Sometimes it just doesn’t pay
to be too optimistic.

Coco Beach, where fishing boats
congregate at Picnic Time,
and drifting sounds of Floyd, alight
in brief, windswept appetisers.

Guitar solos, and Gilmour’s song
satisfy our sentiment.
We’re feeling ‘Comfortably Numb.’
All aboard; we’re setting sail.

Another course to navigate.
Headland highlights harder ‘Time;’
Fort Aguada; jailhouse rock,
and airborne roll call backing track.

Candolim comes into view,
where Holy Cows bemuse bathers.
We pass them by, to coax our craft
to Calangute, where we sample

‘twitchers tipple’; darling-bud draughts
of Kingfisher, and Sandpiper.
Bar-bill change repays Rupees.
‘Wish You Were Here;’ Floyd theme thought

pencilled clearly onto postcards.
Smiling Skipper starts her up;
rolling and bouncing to Baga.
Disco, very deserted,

save for daytime beach debris,
remains from beyond the Rave,
and dancers decaying dreams.
“Shine On You Crazy Diamond;”

an apt all-nighter’s epitaph.
Anchoring at Anjuna;
mystic merchant’s marketplace,
we check out the charmers of snakes,

turners of wood, terms of trade,
wholesale prices, hot surprises.
‘Money,’ only the object
of desire for light-fingered,

well travelled, wayward tourists;
takers of well-stocked wallets.
Sunset stop, in time for tea,
al fresco, at Arambol.

Our first sight of fresh caught fish,
waiting to be fired for us,
transforms us to a panting pack
of Pavlov’s ‘Dogs,’ as we become

tempted by Tandoori Kingfish,
with Steamed Rice, and Naan Bread.
Then, ‘The Great Gig In The Sky.’
Leonid Meteorite

display, ignites the heavens.
Kingfisher kick-in playing tricks
on our eyes? Or is it for real?
Have to see it to believe it.

Incredible India,
all just a memory now,
as we fly, sadly homeward,
to ‘The Dark Side Of The Moon.’