A poem that illustrate thought of a tourist about India. This was written by a British friend after his visit in the year 1989. Sure, things have changed a lot since but a lot still remain same…

Madras

Hotel lobbies, hotel bars

Hotel rooms, air conditioned cars

City sights and sounds and smells

A smile, a frown, a shout impels

The thoughts within to exude

And express themselves without interlude

Here no blossoms, no sweet fresh air

Save the scented jasmine in the women’s hair

And the two don’t mix, as we all know

Like the fires of hell and virgin snow

Flowing bright and silken dress

Saris adorn the putrid mess

Hems lifted gently to protect them

From certain ruin in the amalgam

Of open sewers – each gutter one

Of refuse tips – the pavements on

Rotten, decaying, organic matter

Dried up dung and vomit spatter

From the mouths of the unlucky

Poor and destitute – never plucky

“They are content with their lot”

(Steeped in drink, their guts they rot)

Laying near the dirty door

Their filthy rags bright no more

In the street or on a stair

Ignored by all without a care

And yet…and yet, life goes on

Each to their own – their God isn’t one

Some are born to thrive and prosper

Others to poverty and despair

And here we are, visitors just

Though we discreetly watch – as we must!

And absorb each heart rending sight

Forsaking those in their plight

But if we give – sometimes we do

There are no thanks, nor feelings due

Because are we helping them buy food

Or alcohol which kills? Then we brood

And the rich they come in chauffeured car

Or the latest model bought by Pa

In designer clothes, their scarves unfurled

The stench, the poor? Another world!

P.S: Don’t be critical…all Brit’s (tourist’s) feel the same about our country and love it…!