holiday

unplanned vacation in an bird resort offseason
Husband and his best friend
guzzling beer from a single bottle singing
Out of tune to dire straits
from the car stereo
while their women
carefully try to lay their limbs
between 5 rowdy kids
and a dozen bottles of cold beer
lovingly wrapped in newspaper

there no migratory birds this season , sir
the boys at the reception smile at my binoculars,
camera and Salim Ali guide
and the Swamps are forlon graveyards
for rotting river weed.
No ergets only cows
knee deep in chocolate mud frisking tails,
and lonely unused canoes
abandoned till August end.

the flamboyant Periyar
reduced to a trickle
but a trickle is enough
for 2 middle aged men
to prance around in underwear
children like little hippoes
roll around in the soft riverbed mud
catch small fish to keepin beer bottles.

afterwards indulged in building bridges
"little Hanuman" inspired first from rocks
and then with Truimphant coconut branches
we were cradled
on all sides with majestic blue mountains
thin waterfalls streaming down
(like melting icecream, said my son )
we took a walk on the dried up swamps
made a bounqet of the lotus flowers
explored shady coves among the rock ridges
with dragon flies
collected slimy snails
to return to find the men
buried in mud
which maybe was the latest ayurveda fad
but i guess its mainly the beer

we heard rain.
cloudbursts on the mountain tops
we sat resigned in our waterhole
the hotel room a few civilisations away .
headbowed giving in.
the children ecstatic.
the adults overcome.
the swamp horded with mynahs,
local cranes and wagtails
and after the rain
we were strangely refreshed
cleansed.
and the men suddenly sober.

20% reduction for deluxe rooms
because it was off season
Nature threw in a rainbow
or maybe half over the skyline
as we drew away
this time the men
in the back trying
to build a convincing argument
on why fish couldn't live in beer bottles for ever.