a city you discover, when in love,
when you are truly a vagabond.
sometimes seen, largely unseen,
it walks with you.
the cricket maidans turn into amorous fields,
celebrations in anonymity, the dark provides,
the setting sun unleashes desire,
breaking free,soaring, for a few hours
passion trumps the reality of gravity.
coming back home from college,
stepping off at every station, only
to have samosas and lemonade,
food a mere excuse to check for,
freedom to do as one wants,
without fear, without expectation,
and without any specific reason.
my city, divided into what the Angrez left behind,
and the part we built,
one historical and beautiful, the other simply practical,
one surrendered on 26/7,
built with foresight, the other, held off the sea,
(a question peeks sometimes, just like that)
will Shashi reduce the reparations we seek,
if he stays in SOBO for a week.
people push on, in an unceasing flow,
fates intertwined with their wristwatches,
trains changing stations, like life changing course,
at short notice,
the rush to the other platform,
keeping us on our toes, we are
like a startup always ready to pivot.
cricket kits traveling with tomes on economics,
the din of bhajans, reduced in the exam season,
the couple lost in themselves,
the super crush loaded city makes room for dreams,
helps love find its breath.