Blue skies over Simla
It’s soon a full moon
Radiating the second flat
As I sit on the benches and look at Tara Devi
The last flickering lights of the train disappear
one last turn a fast bend and into the tunnel and now gone..
to the other side..
life then was simple simon
Less people on the planet
Simla was a small town and
My BCS far away from the madding crowd…
Boarding schools were situated on spurs I said looking down I see White Temple, Buffalo Pond, the Hutty; I turned my neck to the left and perched the top of a desolate mountain Pari Mahal..strains of sitar..
Life was simple, the air was simple, the breeze clear and whistling, sunsets too perfect magenta orange and fiery red.
Some voice across from the tennis courts reminds me.. it’s half a century ago .. changes come through decades; the cart road now dust dust and dust; a million cars parked, little rust buckets and half built ugly structures called homes hang precariously on edges;suicidal homes… humanity never stops fornicating; there will be wars; not for territorial expansion but water wars…
I am told a solitary flying squirrel lives on the roof of The Lodge..stuck in a time zone…
2021 is slowly turning the bend
so I need to reminisce on days gone by you know …
I managed and trudged and got my arse into the land of our divine .. my first AZ shot gave me the boost of confidence as they say …
I shot up to School
slept under electric blankets
and dreamt of monkeys riding on zebras sky high in the sky..
I preached and talked and mentored the young ones hearing that old song much popular by Cliff Richard..
I enjoyed Salmon in the hills and
Queso by Francois and his petite esposa
and looked at the washed stars on a perfect night amongst the deodars ..
S&R stayed on course..
Charts laid in ink
through trough and thin
cement wood stones and paint
never too late
It’s barely 162 years
yet energies with synergies
and finally reality..
Whilst I fed apples to wild hare
and heard the bells of cows
I picked up my walk and fed my soul at St. James
at El Monasterio Santiago de Campostela..
I guess I was the only fella
at Bar Escudo del Carmen
in Calle 13
looking at past storms and the Armada
I felt safe in the crowds at Granada with Hermano Antoniocito..
Yet stubbornness prevailed and walking through Benrath
later in Stockholm leaving Karlstad
I came back through the Gates
A perfect morning..
I shed my garb
and perched on that stone…
…that’s where I still am
As Christmas has arrived
Strange times Strange vibes
The chilled wind
I still sit on that stonez
Wishing you all
and hoping the world will be
a better place a week from
today .. Happy New Year…
Kindest Regards and Best Wishes,
Vivek / Bonnie Bhasin
Sitting elf-like on boundary stone in the cold dark winter of Simla.
In SWEDEN yet at the edge of BCS.