Dudhsagar FallsThe drive is long and dustyto Dughsadar Falls.Through forest thick the truckhops along the rutted road,past leaf hidden shantiesThe tang of fermenting cashewsIs strong enough to choke.We journey on, deeper into the unknown.Our driver points out the railway,numbers the dead.Halting, we are guided throughthe trees by a cousin.Warned to watch our steplest snakes lie baskingin the tropical warmth.We pass by a pool,a mini-fall bursting with native children,the thunderous roar out of place.The guide laughs at our conceit,points upwards.We clamber over boulders,escorted by monkeysgreedy for human delicacies,to see this creamy torrentfall to its ruin in a glassy pool.We are not alone.Red and gold fish dart andweave through a seethinghorde of rowdy touristsbathing in sun dappled water.A whoop. The monkey man callsdown his minions.'Cashew, Cashew, 50 rupee'.Survival of the strongest,the ruthless, the most commercial.We bask until near dusk.Until the dust of four wheel drivessettles and the light dims.The journey home is humdrum,lacking desire.
