21 May 2015
Midnight in Mumbai
walking its streets at midnight
air dense with the odour of sweat
that of toil in stifling heat
blinded by the shimmering skyline
barely do i hear, even if i strain,
the waves of the sea afar
there's that girl, pretty in whites,
fucked many a time and loved never
haggling for her price for the night
there's that man, standing in dark
alone and looking into darkness
his cigarette spark, the only light
that baby, all of three years,
far from the arms of its mother
sleeping on the bed of dust
those midriffs that crave for touch
and those that quiver in cold
hiding alike the tales of regret
a city is many cities within
how many can i walk this night
with two feet, loath and languid
i pretend i don't see
the filth, strife and grief
the inescapable loneliness
as i pretend, the city does, too
that my words do not matter
and prepares for another dawn
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