39 At the End of the Day
[Trichy, Tamil Nadu] I had a flight to catch and had taken a room in a hotel I had stayed in many times over the years. My room was on the top floor and it was possible to gain access to the roof and look out over this sprawling metropolis. The city is quite green as these things go, but the trees were all dwarfed by the new hotels and concrete blocks that had sprung up recently. As usual there were some birds; crows, mynahs, and sparrows, that had adapted to life in the city, and one evening as I watched the sunset I saw scores of eagles soaring in the air above a nearby park. At night the moon came out, but there were few stars to be seen owing to the haze rising from the congested bus stand across the road. There was a continual battery of noise rising from this area also, as drivers announced their presence or immanent departure, and were acknowledged by others of their kind.
Coming out of a village on the plains of central India into the squalor of a city undergoing unrestrained development soon took its toll, and within 24 hours my throat was sore and my nose was running as my body tried to adjust to the high levels of pollution. I escaped into the countryside one day in order to find relief from the petrol fumes, but by the evening I was back in my room wheezing and coughing. After a couple of days of this I was getting furious headaches and body aches, and was glad when it came time to take my flight out.
I flew to the north
overtaking the rains
that made their way
along the west coast
The Indian plains
at this time of year
are intensely hot
and the winds are driving
The rivers have dried
and in search of water
the peasant walks long
across the baked earth
The land all about
is arid and barren
and it seems for sure
that death must conquer
I raise up my eyes
and want to cry out:
“We are all exhausted,”
but even tears dry before falling