There was that night I met DJ 5K spinning bhangra hits straight out of Punjab dressed head to toe in traditional Sikh gear like an ancient guru born in Bombay. I sat mindfully at the box office in yet again another dead end job, working to shuck pistachio shells, beer in hand for my end of the night shift drink.
He took one look at me, the artifice of a poet, my salt and pepper beard, long hair flowing in resplendent black locks, and lean runner's figure then thought how weird to find a sadhu in a pair of Docs in a nightclub, stout in hand, made him think...
No comments:
Post a Comment