Chennai in July

Cotton clothes dried in the sun
Varieties of sweet mangoes
Fragrance of fat jasmine in bloom
Cooling thundershowers each evening
Chennai in July

Dusk in Shanti Colony

Shut the doors
Shut the windows

The mosquitoes will swarm in
The traffic noise will drown our voices

Lock the doors
Lock the windows

Now we are safe
Now we can hear us talk again
And catch what’s being said on TV
Now the dust stays out

But so does the gentle breeze
And fresh air
(Or whatever is left of it)

I sit directly under the fan
And wonder what it’s like outside…
Warm? Humid? Raining?

I drown in sweat
I get drowsy in the stale air and the humming of the fan
My head heats up from the depths of my skull
And is ready to explode
I put out the fire with mugfuls of cool water just before bedtime
And go to bed reeking of mosquito repellant

I crack open the windows and the door to my room
And lie down under the fan
In wait for dawn
When the flat can be opened up again
For a couple of hours
Before the heat takes over.

The Trip Back

The white fields of Europe in March
Merge into the grey nothingness of the horizon
That blends into the peach and mauve bands of morning light;
And the clear blue sky expands above.

The magnificent flying swans of Lufthansa
Come home to roost briefly in the pigeon holes
Created on the outer walls of giant concrete structures
Before filling their bellies again with humans and taking off.

Within these concrete structures surrounded by criss-crossing miles of concrete strips,
Security frisks you
Duty-free shop lights blind you
The PA system announcements startle you
Coffee smells tempt you
The automatically rotating self-sanitizing toilet seats comfort you.

And you wait. And wait. And wait.

I am drowsy;
I don’t know if it is hot or cold outside or even if it is day or night;
The time on my watch doesn’t help -
It is the future in a place I’ve left far behind.

The coffee and biscuits and peanuts revive me so I try to read
But not for long because my mind wanders;
I think of the people I’ve had to leave back in the place that is no longer home
And wonder when and under what circumstances I’ll see them next.

The cigarette smells waft over but Sudoku takes my mind off that until I get stuck
And my mind wanders again;
I realize that I’m excited about going home.
How long will it take me this time to get back to a “normal” routine?

The waves of tired travelers have now come and gone and I wake up from my stupor;
I walk for an hour and unlock my limbs knowing I’ll soon be strapped in the belly of another flying swan;
This time the voice on the PA system doesn’t startle me because I’m waiting for it;
The glare of the clouds over the Atlantic is blinding so I close the shades of my window;
The end of my trip has just begun.