It is my absolute pleasure to host two of my favorite artists on my blog, in a single post.
Nikhil R., the creator of this post is a writer par excellence and a published author. His blog, Constructive Interference, inspired me to start my own, 7 years ago ago. Arvind, who graciously agreed to lend his photographs for this post, is a writer and a photographer whose ability to express isn't limited to any one medium. He likes to write micro-stories on his Facebook page, But The Words Prevailed and you can follow him on Instagram for his amazing photo stories too. The most important thing, for me, about them, is that they are two of my closest friends who are kind, amazing, intellectual and free spirited. I hope you enjoy your work as much as I have for all these years! ........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  |
| Photo Courtesy -Arvind Ram Ashray |
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
Sodium vapor lamps and yellow lights on street corners.
Poor, lonely men consumed by tobacco smoke and shadows.
The women of the night who cannot keep them company.
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
The children trekking hills of garbage to reach the summit.
The smells of cheap cuts of meat on an open fire.
Artificial colors in place of real.
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
A hundred different odors vying for my attention.
The scents of perfume and excreta mingled in one uneasy breath.
The concrete jungle--the masses taking what they can get.
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
The noxious fumes and the smell of kerosene.
The home to a million dreams of decency and salvation.
Therein lie my own.
Sodium vapor lamps and yellow lights on street corners.
Poor, lonely men consumed by tobacco smoke and shadows.
The women of the night who cannot keep them company.
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
The children trekking hills of garbage to reach the summit.
The smells of cheap cuts of meat on an open fire.
Artificial colors in place of real.
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
A hundred different odors vying for my attention.
The scents of perfume and excreta mingled in one uneasy breath.
The concrete jungle--the masses taking what they can get.
The creaking bus takes me through the dusty city.
The noxious fumes and the smell of kerosene.
The home to a million dreams of decency and salvation.
Therein lie my own.
 |
| Pic Courtesy - Arvind Ram Ashray |
