Tag: santalpara

Bored being confined by four walls, I set out for Santalpara Where I hear rustics sit idle whole day And drink, brawl and do nothing.   A fine drizzle washed the forest path a while ago, And yonder the fairy trees all stand naked And sacred. I wish to be hugged But no rays enter there, no path laid.   Forest I cross, and come to Santalpara, But where are the Santal peasants? Heaps of tourists’ waste—plastic bottles, beer cans, dotted condoms, And painted, flashy faces, and civilized prattle.   Ten minutes stay I there, and convulsed, And again come