I jumped on the public bus from Ernakulem to Munnar – we were late so I ended up having to sit on the ground in aisle pretty much the whole way. No, this isn’t another Indian Horror Bus Ride Story, it is a story of one of my favourite subjects – love.
I was lucky enough to be sitting facing a lovely Indian couple with their disabled son. Two hours into the trip the son started to pee while he was sitting on his fathers lap. The father realised, smiled and kissed his son on the head – love. He sat there peacefully for the next three hours.
At the moment I was listening to Augie March’s One Crowded Hour. And I definitely felt far from those nonsense bars with there nowhere music. And it wasn’t like drinking gin with nothing else in.
Then I thought of my own Golden September (or rather Golden December) and realised there was never anything there, it was like eating air. But, hell, at least I had that one crowded hour – and I kind of enjoyed the wreck and ruin.
I was lucky enough to be sitting facing a lovely Indian couple with their disabled son. Two hours into the trip the son started to pee while he was sitting on his fathers lap. The father realised, smiled and kissed his son on the head – love. He sat there peacefully for the next three hours.
At the moment I was listening to Augie March’s One Crowded Hour. And I definitely felt far from those nonsense bars with there nowhere music. And it wasn’t like drinking gin with nothing else in.
Then I thought of my own Golden September (or rather Golden December) and realised there was never anything there, it was like eating air. But, hell, at least I had that one crowded hour – and I kind of enjoyed the wreck and ruin.
2 comments:
Susannah, I've just got back to a computer for the first time since christmas and am loving your blog and travels... You never told me you were a poet though... Must be something in the hashish you've been smoking xx
you will get lots more than one glorious crowded hour, i think you will have a lifetime of crowded hours shu shu xox
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