Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Mumbai, 11th March, 15.10

To drive past this city is homecoming.
Welcomed. Unintended.
21 degree celsius. Summers don't shiver
underneath bare neem trees.
The street is a molten river
gurgling an old song
carrying rust and residue of metal automobiles.

It hasn't rained

since I went. Parched tar gapes its mouth.
Chatrapatti Shivaji terminus
She looked like an enchantress that evening.
Today she is an old woman
beaming ear to ear at the city 
that walks past her. Will someone pay heed?
Her eyes well with tears. Careful, lest they spill.

I stare at the swelling suburbs

that once spelled my name. 
Old famished brick buildings jeer at me
I feel like a princess trapped in a cage.
Escape. Exhale. Exit.

Last evening spilled silver on the walls of the RCity

In the mirror I see the moment that had imprisoned
the beauty of your deep brown eyes.
They paid me in full
in those stolen smiles.  

The blue dome of the sky bowers the Mantralaya

as I crave to coil in your arms
I had wanted to see you last night. After four vodka shots.
To hear you whisper secrets into my ear.
To let you speak in a thousand tongues 
that knew just one language.
The language of longing.

This ache is a stalker

it hunts me down every night
when the walls of my room crumble 
to hide me from loneliness.

At the Mount Mary, candles waxed in wishes

melt to get maimed. 
I have stopped lighting them from today.
My skirts dances to the sway in the sun 
as I stroll past the Marine Drive
shaking speckles of dust
off my feet. 

Your voice chases me

The Mumbai tone. The agony of apology.
Messages that were never sent. E-mails.
Phone calls that would forget my number.
Mumbai local ferries human life
to and fro, back and forth. 
I sink in a confession that will never be made.

Soon, the city will wear her jewels

she will sparkle and make fun of me
like a married woman who has monogrammed
her husband's name on her sleeve.
I steer around the Bandra-Worli sealink
halting at a lonely spot
I will come here every year
I will tell the sea our secrets
And in every season the lump in my throat
will shrink.

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