The More You Travel, The More The World Gets Bigger

petrified forest of the sea

go figure, the more you travel

the more the world gets bigger

its the trig-trig-trigger of the next trip

e-even bigger

for the more you move, and the more you see

the more the world becomes, not smaller

but wider longer deeper taller

...

for there is so much to enjoy

for every girl and boy

yes joy to be had for

joy to be glad for

so much whirl and joy

for every girl and boy

...

as

when the next, breaks the context,

the detail will derail

and for you, the zagzigger,

the digger with vigour

the not-known next is now
richer

and reachable

as, for each blank page in the world,

sketchily filled in,

five more are unfurled

its the trig-trigger of the next trip,

e-even bigger

...

and so

in the strive

to be alive

to get yourself somewhere new

where you

are suddenly unused to

being unused to

and to have to get used to

being unused to

and this too

keeps the mind athrive

...

[can i invent the clumsy word

“athrive”

maybe...]

...

for over every border

the world gets deeper

broader,

so i’d rather

the farther

when the smooth of the

move

and the tough of the

rough

are more than

enough

to put you

in the

new

...

cos i

gotta be somewhere

and why not there?

because ahh yes

ah bless

there is so so much joy and whirl

for ev-every boy and girl

joy to be had for

joy to be glad for

so much joy and whirl

for ev-every boy and girl

...

its the trig-trig-trigger of the next trip,

that the next, breaks the context,

as, for each open page in the world,

sketchily filled in, more are unfurled

for the more you travel

the more the world gets

wider deeper

bigger

its the trig-trig-trigger of the next trip

e-even bigger

...

...

...

…

...
and hi

from my sudden repose

after varying kind of hairiness

on savage shore

and in thick jungle

because out there

at low tide

on the South-East of this island

Shaheed Dweep

it is the weirdest harshest landscape

is a moon of lichen

is a petrified coral bed

is a peek into unknown crevices maybe only two decades old

is stark and elemental

because

next the beachless sea

its fifty a hundred metres of smoothed lumpy rock

a sand and green algae colour

with pools

with three kinds of sea slugs

and brittle stars

and goldfish type fish

and feisty crabs waving their claws at you like they

want a punch up

with living coral of gold and purple and yellow

and one like blue heather

yet inside that outer seaside ring of smoothed

its fifty a hundred metres of greyed dead coral

pointed, bladed, serrated, coarse

where if you fell over you would cut yourself a hundred times

and another hundred getting up

so i really had to take my time choosing where to cross it

while this whole landscape must be unusual

over the aeons there must have been many places like this on earth

yet maybe not always

for this is the creation of the earthquake that caused the

Great Tsunami

which uplifted this island by

ONE TO TWO METRES

exposing the coral

which slowly died

withered

greyed

and so here we are

in all its harsh monochrome petrification

though the sandy green stretches make me wonder if

this is what the planet looked like three billion years ago

when algae and lichen ruled the Earth

while in the outer layer

nearer the sea

there are crevices and underwater passages

angled, thin, uneven

some maybe six feet deep

which are probably young

twenty years old

caused by the one sudden shock

and colossal subductive upwrenching

while this whole walk

which i just got back from

was caused by the fact i forgot my goggles

and when i got to Sitapur Beach i thought

well i can’t go swimming and looking for fishies and coral

so i might as well see what happens when i go right

and that is what happened

the lush green jungle path brought me out to the coast

its outer-ring of smooth lichened sandy rock

and then, further round, to where the inner-ring of harsh begins

so it was a

slow

precarious

ninety minutes

in unwise flipflops

marvelling in the colours

the fierceness

the clear crevices

the cactus-like coral

the seaweed like peas

which explode white in the sun [?]

are sea grapes or sea caviar

and it turns out i could have eaten them

while i could maybe have sat down

to read The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A Fuck Up

which is of course the only English book

on the shelves of my current abode, The Garden View

yet sitting down anywhere would hurt

and might get bloody

and anyway

its a self-help book

even though its pretending not to be

and i can’t be bothered with self-help books

particularly when i am in this unique

and fascinating

and colourful

and stark

weirdscape

and particularly when i feel pushed out to the waterside

by the scrapey gratey slicey slitty petrified coral i

still

somehow

have to get across

which makes me again

relish

and savour

and enjoy

and revel in

and soak in

the singular weirdworld i find myself in

so i pick my way back to the sea

while stepping over

round

into

the water

until i decide that the places where the

mangroves jut out from the jungle

will be easiest to cross

are shortest

and with mini-valleys of relative smoothness

so i do, and i’m right

it ain’t so hard

except

the mangroves are impenetrable

have huge grasses serrated by thorns

so i struggle along the jungle-front

fail on a first break into the thickness

and so, on the second

i just keep going

over, under, round

sweeping, swiping

stepping, treading, kicking

caught in lianas, grabbed at by vines

freeing naked feet from thick grasses

and battling into some kind of forgotten banana grove

simultaneously wondering and

not thinking about

What Lives In Here?

and

What Made Those Holes In The Ground?

so calling

and clapping my hands

to warn any cobras, or whatever

till i come out

before a large square well

or tank

and a pile of rubble

and see a guy in a dhoti in the distance

and realise

hey

i’m out, again

and i’m fine, again

while it turns out i’m near the Garden View

so ten minutes later i’m delaying my much-needed shower

because i’ve been given two mangoes

where Indian mangoes are the BESTEST

are peaches from Heaven

and well, there’s no point in me having a

shower and then

eating a mango

because mangoes get messy

and after i eat a ripe mango

i’ll need a shower

after all of which i

get under the mosquito net

the liberating mosquito net

and write this