Take me back to Jalgaon

Take me back to Jalgaon, for this city leaves me so unbearably restless. Take me to the land of supposed water, where I saw no rivers. Where the train rolls in a half hour late to piping hot gingery tea and half a dozen sleepy-eyed Indian men. Where a white van waits, and stays with us through three days, like an easy come, easy go loyal friend. If there ever were such a thing. Person, rather. Take me to Jalgaon, even if make-shift bathrooms threaten to spider you out of existence and beedis taste nothing like you'd hoped. Where guest houses smell fresh and clean and serve poha with mirchi before you set out on a long hard day: trekking in the heat. Take me to Jalgaon, where we were all suspicious of a man called Haider Ali Noorani, because where we come from we are always unsure of people who are truly nice. Take me to the land of 'sev bhaji that reeks of oil', vadapavs fried with the vada and the pav both together and the most divine jeera rice. Where we listened to the people's voices but not their words, looked into their eyes and watched their hands move, for we didn't understand the language they spoke. Where 'witchcraft' prevails, little children hunger, and they rarely laugh. Where piracy still makes its way; or so the local store in the village with hindi phillum cd's and music tells me. Where they also sell adivasi item numbers much to my amusement. Take me to Jalgaon, Dhadgaon and Shahada where we had sliced cucumbers and water straight from the well to quench our thirst, where people looked at us curious-eyed (grammar?) and men thankfully, don't whistle. Take me to Shahada, where listening to the silence was more joyous than listening to the i-pod, where vans with open doors brought much amusement, and sitting on rocks in the middle of nowhere was utterly blissful. Where we were lucky to catch a few minutes on camera with Medha Patkar, where we had our share of daaru, navy cuts, and mumbai madness. Yet, so blissfully far away from it all. For the rain reminded us, where we were. As did the stars, the little galis, the gardens and the animals running wild. Where laughter came so easily. Take me to Jalgaon where sitting atop bags at the staion through the night made for a merry memory, where five people squeeze into a rickshaw, bags included...and giggle through the way.
Take me back to Jalgaon, where for four days, time stood still. And to think, we had so many wondrous experiences.
Oh, just take me back to Jalgaon...for this city leaves me so unbearably restless.