From Delhi 1

Flight over with Vahni Capildeo, poet and fellow participant in the conference. We talk ourselves into sleep, the, a few hours later, we talk ourselves out of it again. We are passing the snow-covered mountains of Afghanistan, the light as clean as spring water.

Terminal 3 is new, hence spotless, palatial and endless. We seem to walk for miles down moving conveyor belts. At the exit we are met by D, who gets us a taxi to the IIC, which by now is very familiar to me. There, waiting warmly, are Ashwini and Sharmistha. We settle in, have lunch, pass a large chanting demonstration by Tibetan students - the police out in bus numbers, which seems scarcely necessary. After that it's rest, then at 5pm I meet a journalist from The Hindu, a young poet who asks me questions that I am often asked if only because they seem to be the ones that That makes a nice change. Then she takes a few photos.

After that it's back to the annex under the Bottle-brush tree. A very large black cat makes loud pleading noises and settles in one lap then another. Readings follow, partly in Hindi, partly in English, partly in Tamil. More on that later. I am grateful for the English parts as it is cold and cooling. I follow the English with intense interest.

The young Collective who wrote Trickster City is here, or at least a number of them. We are introduced and talk through interpretations. Then to supper upstairs, a meal of many parts.Now it's late - 11:30 local time. Tomorrow we start full on.

No pics or links while I am here but maybe I'll work out a way of getting some on. Maybe once I'm back home. Odd, however far you go, if you've been there before it is as if you've hardly been away.