55

Night

The gullies late in the early morning. 3 AM. Dark labyrinth brain of the city spread infinitely upon the surface of the mind. The fitless semi-sleep of the streets resounding in the bark of dogs. bodies of citizens sprawled upon narrow lodges, on burlap, in rickshaw streets, on stone ghats, in positions tenuous, balanced against the night. Limbs bent in unconscious grace. Movements unobserved by the mover. What dreams are in open dead night streets? [MARGIN: Men's dreams belong to God.] A cat comes crashing across an overhanging tin corrugated roof claws like chalk on blackboard, plunging out of control, an animal comet screaming ungracefully, disappearing, with fury spent. A night watchman clutching his bamboo staff, apprehensive of approaching strangers. No one is familiar with the night. [MARGIN: It does not invite your counsel.] Wandering through the guts of the city, a place of sharp shadows cast upon smooth stones. Here glimpses of the sky have no effect upon the buildings, streets or human flesh. Stars provide no solace. A wind weaves its devious path from the river bringing the skin memories. Unrelieving memories.

56

Lingering sun heat impregnates surfaces and interiors, holds itself suspended. Walls of rooms burn. Heat twists in the minds of the sleepers restlessness. Primeval night drifts in the subconsciousness of the communal race. [ILLEGIBLE: looks like "Resolancing"] sounds the chant of the body carries "Ram nam, satra hie" transparent undirected sound, the figure glimpsed distantly, dead human form draped in white, transported on bamboo poles, on shoulders. Swiftly through the crazy turning of the streets "God's name is truth" to the river, piles of wood of logs on the ash filled shore. Dissolving flame, the shuddering, thudding crash of the pole on the skull, the release of the soul and unburnt legs. "God's name is truth" has been absorbed like the sun by the ever objective stones of weary matter. [MARGIN: Transition from one element to another] The mortar of streets. "God's name is truth." A single figure running, his movement hardly displacing the still hung air, bare feet padding the bricks, seeks to overcome. The funeral party, to catch up with death. "God's name is truth" echoes unanswerably through the wealth of shadows.

May 6, 70