Pink Paharganj

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Dusk licks the old Banyan,

Shuts her pores with a kiss,

Ogles at the crows to send them cranky, alarmed,

That deity resting on that vintage stump is served her lamp,

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Lights flick white in that dingy sea of trade,

Reflects in eyes, shining ready for their prey,

Confident of languished hungry visits from the brightest of minds, gone astray,

Some Bags on the go, some await hooked, some packed personal, some for sale,

Stranger eyes are read, flung across are ropes of trust, unsaid,

When a ‘need’ sounds good, it is then understood,

Fools you the stoner’s paraphernalia, peace t-shirts, cargoes on the row,

Action turns into those narrower lanes, shoulder-wide alleys,

Hazy deals, suspicious frowns, then broader smiles and hugs,

Slither sly; make it hush and quiet, in and out in dying daylight,

A fresh wait, a fresh hit, no bait’s needed in this hole of the sphere,

Sucks you to those minstrels of pleasure for a share of their concealed treasure,

Hands in hands with the God of Urge, you tread in here,

The evening calls, triggers her daily moan,

Hails you for more, a Pink Paharganj…

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Debaroon’2013

(From the streets of Paharganj, the hippie back-packers paradise in New Delhi, India, known for its concentration of affordable hotels, lodges, restaurants, dhabas (North Indian road-side eateries) and a wide variety of shops catering to both domestic travellers and foreign tourists, especially backpackers and low-budget travellers. Over the years it has become particularly popular as a haunt for international cuisine and everything that a soul on the lookout for fun and pleasure can end up thinking of. For more on Paharganj, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paharganj )

 

 

Images from :http://darkhartetravel.wordpress.comhttp://shafisaxena-sightseer.blogspot.inhttp://web.stagram.com

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Slaves of Pleasure

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We’re the Human Senses,

No boundaries can bind us,

No walls, No thorny fences,

We’re restless, on a perpetual hunt,

Blinded selfish, we’re focused blunt,

Sniffing out our only treasure,

Pleasure, Pleasure and more Pleasure,

It shouldn’t end us all at once,

Nothing more matters in advance,

So, there’s a land that I know,

Beyond those grassy shores of Mexico,

That swore by Adam and Eve with a lot of sincerity,

To serve us till eternity,

With its only worthy fruit,

The one that offers us the finest bliss,

In abundance, everywhere, supplies are infinite,

Useless are thy laws, in vain the violence,

We are the Human Senses, it is by nature,

That we’re slaves of Pleasure…

Debaroon’2013

(Dedicated to the ongoing efforts glowing futile to root the fatal Narco-Trade thriving on the absence of alternate livelihood choices,and poverty, out of Latin America.)

Image from : http://teamsternation.blogspot.in/