केवल यह: Only This

India is prose. Dunked in the complete chaos of a city of earthen walls, steaming chai, and tuk-tuks battling bulls for street space, the poetry falls away. There is no turn of phrase, no photograph, no video that can incapsulate the taste of turmeric, the intense incense scent, and the cheerful battle of sounds taking place right now between the fire crackling to my left, the fountain flowing to my right, and the music streaming from the bar in front of me. In a world of such cacophony of the senses, poetry falls utterly away and only this–only prose–remains. 

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2 comments

  1. V.J. · December 21

    Well, that may be, but your prose is quite poetic, I’d have to say.

  2. Aunt Marion · December 21

    Wow. You are enjoying your time in India. Safe travels. Keep up the prose. I love it!

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