Voices on the Wind Voices in the Garden
Raj Gardens of Beas and Beyond by Nadine Lockhart Rose bushes all along the borders, Petals gather underneath in heaps, Red, yellow and peach. Nobody’s deadheading. I ask a sevadar who speaks no English, “Can I top them off, do you have a knife?” “Scissors?” “No, sister, nahi,” He motions me to pick up petals, One by one, put them into a bag, One by one, white and pink. I didn’t see the point. India logic equals no Second and third bloom, No lemon in tea, no Shoes in the room. McDonald’s without beef, Cows walking the street Next to camels and cars, horse-drawn carts, auto rickshaws and rickshaws, Horn OK Please, everyone Pissing in public, no one Stopping for red lights, no one Stopping for anything except Chai, and all day long. India: The lost Jewel of the Crown, The lost Jewel of the Crown.