The Brave puppy JoJo...

We are on a rickshaw..... rickshaw is moving very fast i can hear the chola bhaturas bouncing in my stomach.... the book bazaar.... we are now buying books....

We are walking.... We are inside the ruins.... crows... birds and kites everywhere...

outside was man eating rice near a garbage dump seated like he is in a hotel,

outside was delhi police showing their beastly side...we were at their mercy....

outside a man scrubs his feet on the pavement as if he is in a beauty parlour....

But we are inside.... pyaara puppy running in the open green garden from one monument wall to another...

so many kites trying to attack him... brown puppy runs into a corner... Rs 5/- per boiled eggs he eats...

i wonder how he will survive the night at ferozshah kotla, where so many kites want to tear him apart

where he is sucking on the roots of the grass for food...

I left the garden as the sun was setting... khatti meethi my companion wishes to go home

Brave JoJo.... i value your spirit to live the way you do... i hope you survive

The Red Tower

a boywith stars in his eyes met me at the subzi mandi. He was willing to carry my subzi. I ran away to the train station. The smell was horrible. So much garbage was spread all around me. The earth was yellow in colour. The sky was light blue.

Through the stinking bylanes of Garhi Village stepping on cow dung, sounds of the sewing machines, the local barber, open drains and wires swinging like gold and silver chains from each roof. I made my way with Khatti meethi (sour & sweet).

She ran like a cheetah down the Temple road. I followed her in serach of the hidden jewel. Garhi artist were busy in their production of goods whilst the stary dogs barked on the streets. Nescafe coffee Rs 10/- and i sat with a tower of evening mosqitous hovering on my head.

The guards chased me as i clicked the photo of the Red Tower and I ran away with Khatti meethi. The rickshawala with his blue checkered dhoti and muscular legs helped us escape into the narrow lanes of C block east of kailash...

The wounded donkey

The wounded Donkey in the heart of the Tughlaq fort. He was bleeding, legs tied with a rope... yet he enjoyed eating the grass... The sun was setting, i tried my best to spot Qutab minar. As we walked inside the prison cells, she said - i hope u are carying your Kirpan. All around delhi moved in all directions. A fortress laid far away on the other side of the road.

I wish i could do something for the Poor donkey. Tamura she yelled and my chopstick legs started running towards the car. The sun ran away to the other side. We were in traffic. I thougth of the innocent sweet donkey. Would he spent the night tied up like this inside the deserted fort. He is so lucky to spend the night under such a vast sky, yet in bondage of his ignorant owner.