I just went to Corbett*,

Against odds I had bet.

And so we entered the jungle,

Carrying our bugles with great bungle.

We soaked it all in from this sojourn,

As the fauna scoffed at us with a scorn.

But we still unbelonged and invaded,

Seduced ourselves and serenaded.

The rustling leaves and bustling trees,

A landscape full of bovines, birds, and bees.

We reached the fabled rest-house,

A former hunting lodge, a slaughterhouse.

There was the ‘old’ and there was the ‘new’,

The ‘old’ was reserved for a selected few.

We were allotted room number four,

Of which I’d heard only in folklore.

The lodging where Modi* had stayed,

With stories of specials it was sprayed.

We cared not to lose our senses,

And jump over those electrified fences.

Finally we set off on our safari,

In a gypsy almost ‘ram’ ko ‘pyaari’*.

As the tyres raced and rolled,

Buttons on camera I scrolled.

Desperate to click, not to see,

Marvelling at the apex’s faeces full of flea.

Like a rat my heart raced,

When a tiger I finally faced.

I felt so small and puny,

Stripped like a lacklustre looney.

Who thinks he owns all,

In the scheme of things he’s so small.

This continued consecutively,

We acted impaired imperatively.

We scarred the earth and the air,

Still calling ourselves fair and aware.

Had some food and some more fun,

Qualifying ourselves to fit the intended pun.

More sightings and writings followed,

As batteries on my camera I hollowed.

It was truly a joyful junket,

Replete with roars and trumpets.

We came back home from the stint,

Adding gloriously to the carbon footprint.

As I write this tell all tale,

I feel like a convict out on bail.

I should take a moment to think,

Before I re-rampage and raise more stink.

© Hemant Garg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PU0kuKPDMkc