Pause

For Mumbai. The railway coaches stand like zombies, like they have been assigned a job they never signed up for. They look desolate without the crowds. The sea-link looks like a lonely strip, the flyovers show off their curves, but who’s there to watch? The maidans lie bald, speckled with spots of brown and green. …

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Displacement

The cold air of the AC grazes my neck. Our lattes arrive. I glance at the frothy cream in my cup and look at my father, wondering if he misses the Irani restaurant that has been replaced by this café. He says he doesn’t. He tells me the Irani place shut shop years ago. He …

क्या होता अगर इस शहर में दीवारें होती?

क्या होता अगर इस शहर में दीवारें होती? क्या होता अगर इस जज़ीरे ने सालों पहले अपनी मुट्ठी बंद कर ली होती?   अगर कोई आ जा न पाता, बारिश की उन बूँदों के सिवा जो इसकी उंगलियों के बीच नाचती, इसका मज़ाक उड़ाती और फिर इसकी ज़मीन खुरेदकर थोड़ी सी मिट्टी चुराके डुबो देती …

Mumbai!

Seas of stars greet me as the airplane tilts its nose, Mumbai spreads its arms. NaPoWriMo 2017, Poem 10