Every year, I hear the mountains calling. Last year, it was Dharamsala, the monsoon soaked home of the Dalai Lama. This is not about my trip to Dharamsala; but the drive back to Amritsar. On one of Punjab’s main highways, I found glimpses of a world that lives by, and thrives with the constant sound of roaring engines and burning rubber.
This guy didn’t know where to go
All packed and headed for a new life
This kid couldn’t find the zebra crossing
I’ll beat you to it…someday
Greener side of the grass
Trucks are for losers
