Tag Archives: India
Through The Grime Smiles Mahatma Gandhi
I won’t be snorting anything through this! A little poem about something I found in my wallet. Continue reading
A Poem: Under A Tree In Rishikesh
Parmath Niketan ashram by the Ganges in Rishikesh was our base for a week after we escaped the 46 degree heat of the Indian desert. In the ashram we rested, ate incredibly healthily and practiced yoga.
Under a tree in the pretty, lush gardens by the yoga school (which is incidentally just next to the World Toilet College) Collette and I took a couple of hours to relax surrounded by the butterflies, colour shifting lizards, tropical birds and insects before we were rudely disturbed by the rhesus macaques. I was writing plenty of poems during the peace of this time and here is one inspired by the garden beasties.
The Abandoned Construction Site: An Excerpt From Red Moon
Whilst in India I have started to write a book. I’m calling the book Red Moon and here’s an early excerpt. The book centres around disappearances of young people in Goa. The initial inspiration was supplied by some spooky events in Pondicherry. This is the second post related to the book. You can read the other by clicking the link at the end. Enjoy! Or not as the case may be…
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A Poem: Watching A Fly On A Slate Table: A Fly Tetralogy
With the full privilege of a month in a Himalayan hut, I was granted the rare liberty of observing a common fly for a period not too removed of two hours. I’d avoided flies in Rishikesh: they’d usually flown hot, straight from a homeless and vomiting cow’s arse. But here in the flowery mountains, I imagined this one had just danced from a pink rose or at worst had been pestering a butterfly. You may think that flies are just black dots that you brush off, but I firmly advocate closer inspection. A whole world is waiting in the minutiae. My protracted period of muscidae monitoring resulted in the following poem.
Get Calm, The Human Zoo and Sebastien Tellier
Our mountain hut, at night, looks out from this fortunate rock, through our atmosphere, into the vast reaches of space and time. So many questions. We listen to Sebastien Tellier’s album, ‘Universe’ which, if you don’t already know already, is gorgeous. Continue reading
Yurik’s Prisoner: An Excerpt from Red Moon.
Whilst in India I have started to write a book. I’m calling the book Red Moon and here’s an early excerpt. The book centres around disappearances of young people in Goa. The initial inspiration was supplied by some spooky events in Pondicherry. This is the second post related to the book. You can read the other by clicking the link at the end. Enjoy! Or not as the case may be… Continue reading
To Achieve On Merit, Should I Vote Tory?
I want to achieve on my own merit. I want to work hard and be the best person that I can be. So should I vote Tory? After all, a vote for the Tories is a vote for, ‘The Great Meritocracy’.
Hailing from a poorer family but having half a brain, I’ve always felt that the idea of a meritocracy is a good thing. Encouraging people to achieve whatever they can achieve and finding their place in society by their own endeavour. I think it’s healthy to promote values of entrepreneurship and effort. It seems I align with a mainstay of traditional Tory themes here. Continue reading
Pranayama Practice and The Wisdom of Yoga
A ten day experimentation with pranayama whilst reading, ‘The Wisdom of Yoga; A Seekers Guide to Extraordinary Living’ by Stephen Cope. This journal was posted daily onto the Facebook Group, ‘Yoga For Men Leeds’ incrementally over the last ten days. Here it is, collated. Continue reading
Meditations from Jibhi
Our bedroom is in the attic of a handmade house. All wood with a slate roof, there’s nothing we are wanting for. A comfortable mattress on the floor, some make-do pots and pans in the kitchen, a place to meditate and practice asana. Beyond the rough hewn door is a balcony that frames the most extraordinary view. Bougainvillae creeps around the struts and beyond are the steep sloping terraces of Jibhi. Green upon green, the pines rise up to the peaks, and dotted irregularly are the pink and green homes that remind us we are still in India.
complaints book available 