being brown

Mumbai

Uncaring,
Cold, impersonal, apolitical,
steeped in apathy.

Where dreams made of brick and cement
Have turned to dreams of brittle glass.
where dreams were once woven fine
the fabric faded and the dreams came undone

Where love is what they say it is
Singing in the rain, dancing around trees
Where love is made in full public view
On some Scandal Point, some seashore, or dark avenue

Where every rumble of the electric train
Is the heavy breathing of a people’s strain
Where sleep comes as sweet relief
From breathless existence ,hope and belief

Where a stormy gale that burst in from the sea
Rustles that one solitary leaf
where the rain that comes with that stormy gale
lasts four months, the city’s sins washed away

Cold, impersonal, apolitical,
steeped in apathy
Who cares!

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One response

  1. Ishma Siddiqi

    Wow! Very well expressed 🙂

    December 15, 2010 at 4:02 am

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