Mumbai city souvenirs.

I

Bombay city,
parts of you exhausts me,
So many eyes haunted by a nameless disease of the mind.

Bombay city,
your music is only the sound of rushing, cars, trains, people.

Bombay city,
my eyes too have been eaten by your vultures,
and my flesh is being torn.
Through your dark tunnels, subways, lanes and piles of buildings
i hear
the coughing human heart.

Bombay city,
your nights are'nt really quite;
amidst the thick gloomy fog
in the neon lights
the hankering hawkering still goes on.

Bombay city,
indifferent to life and death
what more can i say about you.
Cries , moans, shouts, screams,
headaches,heartaches,soulaches.....
Blood and gutters, life and germs,
all mingling in our genetic pool.

II

Mumbai;
the otherside -less glorious;
The green blue gutters,
far lethal than acid,
a green tree grows from it;
a sparrow sips from it;
A child sits besides relieving his constipated belly.

Through the subways
the train moves in the morning
From the suburbs to the city.
A hundred thousands of them
shitting between the raiway tracks;
And cancerous shrubs sprouts,
on flows the gutters from somebody's toilets, urinals, basins;
A million streams where children play in the monsoon rains;

Mumbai,
you tell me that life goes on.


III

Slums
and more slums;
growing daily
in the lies and deceptions of the city.

Brawls ,fights, rapes, molests, glamour.
A child with a soul
must kill the soul to live.

IV

Allergic and allergic again;
Sights and smell nauseating;
developping, deteriorating,
Don't touch me Bombay city
When parts of you are so full
of sickness, pus and phlegm,

how can i say that all is well.


V

In two brief hours
how many suicides i 've committed
I can't digest your cruel laws.
Men in the streets
knock
before doors
that won't open.

A soul stood before me
knowing not
what to trust,

But it stood there
till the downpouring rain came
Looking
at passing blank faces.

VI

My nose burns,
my lungs like two black air bags heaves;
Slowly the city enters - making me a part of it;

Showing me where to fit in.

Cyanide dust is everywhere
in my eyes ,
in my thoughts,
In my heart,
in my breath,
in my laughter.

Living in cyanide- you know, what it is.
I'm dying.


VII

Mumbai,
what have i seen in you
to have loved you.