My tryst with Bombay

The spider usually stays on his side of the wall,

As roommates, we quite like each other. We don’t speak; just go on dealing with our webs.

It’s never dark at night. City lights piercing through the drapes, I bask in the orange glow all night long.

Past midnight, a dog howls below my window stirring up the ghosts of my memory. When I was little, my mom told me, “Everytime a dog barks, a new star is born in the heavens.”

The city has 15 hours of dawn. Buildings coming up every minute. Development, they call it.

The night has no intention of settling. Aadam chacha is busy making chai. A man of 83, he crossed to the other side of the line 68 years ago.

I see the valley in his eyes and the world in the lines of his forehead. Kashmir smells like the sea; salt and water, sweat, tears, blood.

The world, like chai and tobacco.

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Author:

I've been writing poetry since I was a kid and my poetry is without fail a description of things that matter, to me. I pretend to not like love poetry. I have an insane love for popcorn!

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