Malvika's Ramblings

Weekend I must record for me

Sweet sweet weekend.

Sat morning - thundering Enfields.

Cult-brothers homed in.

Then a windy spring evening.

The smell of grass.

Akbar Road

Teen Murti

Shanti Path

Sailed on Trek

Nevada to jaggery-town

Passed Canada, Japan, Australia

Embassies.

A twinkling airbus flew overhead

Against dark rolls of cloud tinged with orange

And I sailed below.

Neck craned up

For a twitch sec,

And then zoommmmm….

Sunday morning.

Woke up right side of the bed

Threw my feet into sports shoes

Pedaled down a dawn-dark road,

Suhail in tow

With his fire-engine helmet

And loads of go.

Ripped the roads

In a band of 12

As perspiration started to break

As the sun came up

Ochre orb

We broke into drrrrrrt.

Fingers jammed in cold

Refusing to squeeze life-saver brakes

Began to thaw

And we skidded, hurled down sand,

Sending the odd peacock

Squawking away

Outta our way.

Ride done.

But legs got momentum going

And going

And going.

Clockwork.

Reached the P-Maidan Book Fair,

To meet kith & kin.

Mom,

Sitting pretty with volumes

Picked, selected, chosen and bagged.

Hit home. Nani & khichdi.

Hit Khan Market

Jasmine tea

A friend back from Kargil, Drass

Another pal ready to catapult to tropical Hyd

A friend loony n moony, inhaling new-found love.

Lull n stories.

Hit Maggie n Dane

A cosy bed

Crepes n tea-lights

Maggie’s dad with a thousand vials

Of different smells

Horsehair and daffodils

Precious mumbo jumbo

That his kids couldn’t mess with.

Café Morrison

A run-in

A massive co-incidence

You from SODA?

You know what Gaultier did for Madonna?

Finally, back to that day’s home.

Pillow and tring, tring.

Morning. Back on the saddle.

Photo by Hari Menon.