Some of you may be familiar with Indian Slummer, the blog I’ve been writing for the past few years
as I’ve thumbed and slummed my way around India. For those of you who aren’t, here’s
a chance to catch up as I bring it all delightfully to life in rhyming couplet
format….
RIP INDIAN SLUMMER
I took myself off to India in search of a small slice of
happy. I thought I could do it without hair mousse. My hair looked consistently
crappy.
I traveled all over the country on the sleeper buses for
which India’s renown. I found it quite thrilling. To be whizzing about. On a flat bed.
Sprawled out. Lying down.
I stayed in shacks and shitholes, which were cheap but a far
cry from cushy. And every night, I became a mosquito’s delight and was devoured
just like human sushi.
I visited temples and ashrams. Met sadhus, swamis and sages.
I stopped eating meat and got back on my feet by doing more yoga than I had
done in ages.
I studied Vedic Dharma and had a go at silent meditation. But
then I got sick with severely bad shits and needed hospitalisation.
I splashed about in the Ganges and I scaled Himalayan
mountains high. I lolled lazily about on
white beaches until my pale skin started to fry.
I met some incredible people and I made a great many
friends. I dated some dudes. Drank too much booze. And I had a colonic cleanse.
Then six months ago I met Max. He was handsome and kind. A
real treasure. He captured my heart. Right from the start. I thought he would
be mine forever.
I moved into his place in South Goa. Looking back, I wish we’d
gone slower. Because living together
isn’t that clever, when you’re with someone who don’t really know yer.
A few weeks later I became ill. I discovered I had a stomach
tumour. Then things went downhill, when blood started to spill and near death
led to my lost sense of humour.
It took a good few months to recover. And I wasn’t much fun
to be with. But by the time I was fine, Max was no longer inclined, to have me in
his life as his lover.
I came home without further ado. My Indian dream’s now a
thing of the past. Why slum when I really don’t have to? When I’m happy with
life at long last?