26/11

I walk

Past the carcasses on historic stairways

Towards the emptiness of affable Receptions

And into the shards of broken glass

I walk

Out to meet a horde of troubled kin

Their empty souls meet my eye

Prayers find a fervour unlike another time

I walk

Ahead into the stillness of abandoned streets

Beneath the bitterness of the amber light

As tender feet tread over the gore of a man's delight

I walk

Onto platforms without familiar sounds

No maddening babel of industrious folk

Fleeting eyes seek the 9.29 BO ticker

I walk

Into the intimate tungsten of your home

I miss the homespun dal and rice

And the mellow companionship of my wife

I walk

To see the delightful banter of a children few

I miss my little devils too

And in the corner of my eye I see

Your soul acknowledge me with a sigh,

'Ai, the Spirit of Mumbai '