a long day's drive from Delhi
the bus trailed dust
across the Gangetic plain
into the foothills of the Himalayas
into the holy city of Hardawar
and on to Rishiskesh, holier yet
home to rishis, sadhus, and frauds
we walk past the wealthy lepers
who beg beside the rain dampened trail
beneath sky blue umbrellas
cross over the suspended footbridge
to drop our rupees into 
the begging bowl of the world

i would seek answers
but the gurus are not here
they have flown to the Alps
or California
traveling not the astral plain
but Air India
on their green carpets
of woven promises

so instead I wade in the Ganges
after all, I tell myself
it's the journey that is important
not the destination