in the ragged sheets torn and stretched like ancient sails bathed in golden sunlight
in the scattered laughter dancing down valley and alley ways
in the lovely little myna birds with dark liner eyes 
in the dreaming dogs asleep on magic carpets
in the flat water sunset 
in the light silver light
in the dust dreams of children
in the boatmen moving like smiling statues 
in the sunrisen semisilence 
in the sunken temples 
in the holy fakers 
in the blue horned bull flicking flies by eyelash
in the brightly washed coloured sheets stretched out drying on the giant steps of the morning ghats
in the silhouette washerwoman pounding the shoreline wrapped in sequence and colour
in the brush brooms and sweeping smiles
in the sound of the goat bell
in the desert hush at twighlight
in the stitch of ten thousand stars
in the low drone of train tracks supplying beat to the song played out on sympathetic strings coming  from Balaji’s violin

i found him