Smell of cows
Already
At baggage claim.

boys in tan clothing
arrange red carnations
around marble fountain

intimate carvings
from another time
show signs of age

lost among
the qutab stones
lady in brown saree

giggling women
in their salwaar kameez
red yellow green

light traffic
on delhi streets
cricket fever

A hunder gather
Round sidewalk TV:
India Vs. Pakistan.

Chipmunks scramble
Across carved stone
Ignorant of prayers.

Gold-edged sari
Peeks from among
Centuries-old stones.

Dog rolls over
Uncaring of tourists
Lazy underbelly.

Horns, signs and silks:
my senses fill
First day in India.

Oblivious to traffic
She strools the highway
Head wrapped in batik.

striking blue
her salwaar kameez
eunuch thing

Man sprinting
Tried for the bus
Whole day ruined.

Soldiers stand guard
In empty gardens
Stray dogs for company.

Flowers decorate
Little white car:
Married life begins.

evening sun
now an orange ball
in delhi’s haze

crowd congregates
at local chai shop
india vs. pakistan

Men, cows, dogs
Risk their lives
To cross this street

saffron color
mistaken as pink
by clueless gringa

Delhi traffic:
More horns in one day
Than in my whole life.

her face
smeared with vermillion and ash
temple blessing

Large white gringos
Wander in and out
of the Pick-a-Chick.

From under parked motorbike
Stray cat stares
At Delhi human chaos.

stuck in traffic jam
between scooters and cows
minister must cross!

In the park
Over manicured bushes
Someone’s clothes are drying.

sikh wedding procession
band advertises
“we have no branch”

sea of maroon turbans
bobbing along the roadside
sikh wedding procession

Unkempt little girl
Open palm in car window
How to refuse?

Joyous trumpeting
Drums and turbans
Sikh wedding.

Turbaned Sikh advertises
On back of scooter:
“Simax Hair Fixer.”

Tent-city girl
Nevertheless, sweeps her
“front yard.”

Suddenly smell of smoke
As we pass the sign
‘Electric Crematorium!’

taking a leak
off the footpath
what better place?

game of cricket
in the maidan
next to lotus temple

din of india
suddenly silenced
inside bahai temple

bahai temple
mostly holy
but I smell dal.

inside bahai
even whispers
echo softly

In Bahai temple
Procession of colored saris
Ankles jingle softly.

her hands
praying to different god
in humility

colorful turbans
rustic villagers
bangles jingle

so many religions
drawn to this place
by its sheer beauty

can’t keep quiet
inside the temple
tiny gal asks for home

plastic bag crackles
perhaps filled with goodies
as family leaves the temple

bangles and sarees
marigolds and turbans
together in harmony

seeking silence
among the visitors
finger against lips

sudden crackle
breaking this silence
ironic thought of guns

Favorite part
Of Indian temples
Walking barefoot.

family feud on
street of delhi
(no reason)

Shantytown barber
As dignified and precise
As any other.

Famous movie director
Waiting for luggage
Like everyone else.

so many contrasts
on streets of delhi
isn’t life like that?

Stoic dog
Lies in the sand
Chaos all around him.

after cricket match
life on streets
back to chaos (again)

Sensory overload
Color and feel of fabrics
How to choose?

Outside the tranquil garden
The warning sign:
“Robbers will be shot.”

delhi chaos
opens further ahead of us
approaching new delhi station

agra train
my greasy hands
cutlets eaten

mangy dog
lone sentry outside
exposition building

adding to din
on morning walk to taj
shrieking parrots

in mausoleum
silence shattered
by clapping tourists

Pigeon feather
Flutters down
Mumtaz’s resting place.

Pity no longer able
to view it
Under moonlight.

crouched like vultures
At right angles (In corners)
In scaffolding.

paddy fields
fast encroaching
the yamuna

Lightweight acrobats
Balletic movements
In scaffolding.

mowing the lawn
old fashioned way
using a machete

Brace of oxen:
Mowing the lawn
At the Taj.

bees buzz
across portal
with view of taj

Pigeons and beehives
Life still abounds
In deserted Agra Fort.

Street barber
Ignores noise and traffic
so precise.

Rolls of fat
Squeezed between
Pink chiffon.

Rusty red Fiat
Out of place
Among rickshaws.

Admiring sapphire ring
Gaunt driver waits
In ragged clothing.

Struggling for words
Composing haiku
On moving rickshaw.

Such strange signs
I keep seeing:
“Cricket Kebab Funda.”

Not sure why
India inspires
So much haiku.

One-dollar tip
Rickshaw-puller’s
Smile.

finger stuck
in her cleavage
oh! so nice

Like crows
Our human eyes
Caught by sparkly things.

Dinnertime
my nose running
From the spices.

Sprawled on bed
After Indian dinner
Beached whale.

So many street people
Only exist
In forgiving climes.

Led blind
To Taj Mahal
Eyes opened to splendor.

tiny idols
wait for worshippers
behind steel bars

even gas pumps
glorified
by marigold garlands

Nothing wasted
Garbage picked over
By cows and humans.

portly pigs
wasting no time
with temple waste

cows jostle
humans too
for space on roads

rail crossing
we all jostle
get to other side

From mud hut
Woman emerges
In spotless sari

Old man
Propels mud-caked bicycle
so dignified.

Driving for hours
Place must be
Very far away.

another shrine
this one blue
lone among mustard (fields)

habitat lost
our heart bleeds
for roadside bears

sharing stories
red stone gazebo
abandoned city

intricate etchings
so smooth
after so long

neat stack
circular mounds
cow dung rolls

sauntering across
the chaotic road
goat takes her time

another day
another town
losing track of time

Green parrot
Perches on
Delhi high-rise.

Three weeks
Without raw veggies
Poor intestines.

Among green fields
In apricot sari
Woman wielding scythe.

Tiny goat
Tethered in
Dusty yard.

Tiny boy
Pissing gleefully
Onto garden wall.

Horns
Most fortified part
Of Indian cars.

Babble of voices
All around me
Bus to Varanasi.

Sudden surprise
Yellow tree
In bloom.

Baby goats
Too cute
I want to hold one.

Baby goats stands
On embroidered
Silk sari.

Coca Cola’s message
same as always?
Life ho to aisi!

In Varanasi
All the mango trees
In full bloom.

1500 year old Buddha
Minus a hand
Still serene.

Piece of rock
Tiny carved figures
Sign: ‘Numerous Buddha’.

In hushed museum
Surrounded by Buddhas
Nasty flatulence.

Museum tour
Art and Weapons
Makes us human?

Buddhist monks
Come to museum
To gaze at buddhas.

Slipping through the bars
At Buddhist temple
Street urchin.

Cut back once
Those thorny vines
Growing back already.

Maroon-robed monk
Reties head scarf
Against the sun.

New Buddhist monk
Intones prayers
At ancient stupa.

Scattered dots of
Gold abound
On this ancient stupa.

In middle of
That dog turd
A footprint.

That young lady
So elegant in silks
Picking her nose.

Buddhist monks
Shaved heads
Busy on cell phones.

SUV full of
Buddhist monks
Charging down the road.

Buddhist monks
Maroon robes
And Reeboks.

Heading straight
For oncoming traffic
Disaster barely averted.

Mid-highway temple
Visited only
During lighter traffic.

Stray dog sleeps
In sight of
Holy cremation pyres.

This kind of traffic
Would never be allowed
Back home.

Sighted amidst traffic chaos
Middle of the road
One lost flip-flop.

sunday morning
rickshaw ride the ghats
mango blossoms majestic

stoking fire
on the roadside
time for morning chai

betel leaf rolls
stacked one above the another
morning ride to ghats

early morning
every moment
a magical one

floating prayers
of marigold and ghee
sunrise at ganga

his oar
reaching softly into
reflection of morning sun

morning massage
oh so groovy
despite his BO.

on roadside
impromptu salon
armpits being shaved

sunday morning
ghats yet
oh so busy!

buncha iowans
all decked out
pseudo indian

Withered flowers
On dinner table
Waiter lights our candle.

at jain temple
almirah
with priestly goods

sparkling locks
to keep in
the Jain Gods!

behind sparkling locks
temple sanctoum holding
naked Jain

ruffling feathers
of baby sparrow
behind temple picture

We’ve now seen
so many temples
Respect for all faiths.

Man applies paintbrush
To perfect breasts
- Chemical preservation.

Fighting over
Biggest nipple
two brown pups

Workers doze
At construction project
Indian sun too hot.

Tusks and trunks broken
Elephant statues
Still stand guard.

afternoon crowd
under mango tree
listening to cricket

bee hums
joyful expression
among erotics

tantric poses
on temple walls
bees hum joyfully

gringo gives
a rickshaw ride
driver all glee

Hot sun has lost
All its power
At horizon

Black dog scampers
In orange glow
Of setting sun.

chaos of road
too hot in car
for haiku moments

afternoon ride
in chaotic city
we sweat!

Today too hot
For anything
Even Haiku

smoking beedi
beggar takes a break
shadow of a wall

this moment
so full of life
oh so complete!

Purple bougainvillea
At Artillery Center
Ignorant bliss

paddy field
dry for the season
full of migrating herons

speed bumps
one bigger than another
one mis-spelt ‘hump’

encroachment
of concrete and plastic
heritage lost forever

sugar canes
roadside squeeze to pulp
and some flies too

patch of green
in this semi arid
golf links

young boys
military fatigues
broomsticks in hand

muezzin call
afternoon hour
i rather siesta

burkah clad
woman gather under tree
with no shade

tender mangoes
in shades of the fort
ripe for street urchins

That last photo
Worth putting your feet
In garbage for.

its face turned
away from the traffic
last year’s Ganesh

Caged highway chickens
Know only suffering
Await only death.

orange saree
other bright thing
among mustard fields

dogs laze
among sandy field
no corn to pick

shattered pot
middle of road
lost valuable

bee lost
in the chaos
joins our car ride

Rounding the corner
Sudden shock of poppies
Against red sanstone.

Five-tiered lace
Airy red sandstone
Brilliant flowers below.

Big group of Germans
Descends suddenly
On my peace.

Cool how
Windows are just
Filigreed stone.

Strolling around
Gazing at monuments
Restful vacation.

beauty
no longer appreciated
how pathetic?

This stone bench
Not much softened by
Foam cushion.

Two men needed
For this lawnmower
One pushes, one pulls.

Single file
Geese parade by
Late afternoon haze.

Enterprising magpie
checks out
Buffet table.

golden arch
of my pee
in the headlights

fixing the flat
huddled in back seat
her feet cold

her shy looks
makes him explain
‘village girl’

shadow
in passing headlights
my bad pouf

for fieldwork
the women here
wear silk

reaching across
she finds instead
a broken zit

fancy showrooms
of new cars
bad roads to drive on

Palm trees for sale
In steel
Rickshaw cart.

cocoa cola ads
every where
water to dirty to drink

cobwebs
perfect canopy
For ancient idols

rural india
so serene
what contradiction

ambassador cab
all beatup still
decked out for holi

cab dashboard
just right place
for everyday shrine

Sikkim to Kolkata
Frigid to sultry
in just a few hours

Multicolored faces peer
From motorbikes
Today is Holi

feeling balmy
in Kolkata
Thank God not in Gangtok!

warding off
evil and thieves
limes and 3 chilies