under steamy tropical Indian skies
women by the mystical muddy banks
weave fairy tales into their dreams
as Gandhi so eloquently put it:
beautiful silk a pleasure to caress,
a bright light in this world full of darkness
and in old colonial Assam
tea was transported from Tezpur
to exotic places such as Leeds
for a hot drink on cold foggy days.
I picture steamboats from long ago,
just memories, nothing lasts forever
not even the Brahmaputra river.