The Hardest Journey So Far

A train ride i have taken a hundred times, a track as familiar as my walk to work and back. Lost between elation and dread , traveling south to a place i have previously called home.  Seats with space but my head has none. Heading to a place, a location that has housed my deepest spiritual and personal experiences, a place that in the past has made me my perfect person…long ago.

Why does he sit there in this place i called home, called mine.  Sat in a place that was years ago. I am full of dread as the loud fast black tunnels propel me back in time instead of forward, like a time machine toying with brain cells. There he is but there he is, they are. My crew, my boys , my indian loved ones deep within my last decades history, my make-up. Frustration turns to anger and back to dread….and then neutral as i could not have not come.

I consulted and assessed and considered flesh beyond my own, before heading towards a situation that is only as hard as it needs to be.  Monk , coke and the occasional penguin bin help with the drive towards the sea, the bumpy road into the jungle towards a previous love, my indian brothers, my main reason to visit.

And so all done. Greetings are said, embraces over , in a place so magic, so wild and so very real. My aging flesh being the only giveaway that i ever left.


  1. itsme

    How are you able to blog so often on the road? Are you doing it from a tablet/mobile with SIM connectivity? Let me know. Thanks.

  2. itsme

    Very good. Keep in mind that usually Internet cafes charge about Rs. 20-30 per hour. They do jack up prices for foreigners; so bargain a little bit.


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