two weeks in

Incongruous is not a word here.
Incongruous is the only thing.
Every thing
sticks out
abruptly,
like a
lurching foot on an accelerator
at a GIVE WAY sign -

women in ornate and striking colours
dapple the derelict concrete buildings
and pot-holed roads
glittering in the sun alongside
the plastic-lined pavements;
jutting ribs and amputees
beg for the rupee you don't have, but
can most certainly afford - four thousand times over.
on the doorstep of Gucci and Hyundai, people
sit in gutters
tapping away at their iPhone 7
with bare feet
flat-screened televisions shine
divine light
out of brick-and-mortar bungalows, shouting
Bollywood love songs
over the sound of
women being raped
and young hushed couples
afraid to touch in public;

people push and
queue and
tutt for a spot to pray
in the temples, to
meditate in the Matrimandir...

dishonest men
point you towards honest bargains;
honest men
coax you into
dishonest favours, tips, taxes...

The locals don't speak a
word of English
and neither does the guy who's fluent

holy cows roam the streets starving to death,
desperately ingesting
last month's trash;
they're too sacred to slaughter
so we let them commit suicide instead

"Say NO to plastic" signs are dusted over
by a thick layer of smog,
dogs collapsed on their sides
look neither dead nor sleeping
and elephants are at home
in 2x3m sandpits

men hold hands on the beach and no-one blinks an eye,
but they're executed for fucking in private
and I can't get my legs out
in the 35 degree heat -
and it's winter !

on day three
we smoke a spliff
with some college students,
it costs us $6 for half a kg -
but I can't get a soy flat white
anywhere,
let alone soy...
and I can't get one at home,
for that much,
either...

if I want to buy that saree
I must also buy those tights, no
exceptions

I guess all the stares
mean we fit right in,
I'm just not sure
if it's curiosity or
contempt