City lights

( Kolkata,2009)

The air hung heavy, laden with moisture

The people hung on, embittered but gritty;

The warm, moist, fetid air blew in from the Ganges

And shrouded the sweltering city.

City walks filled with rapid steps,

Milling crowds amidst the traffic maze;

The colonial walls looked down upon the great city,

Chance-built, chance-erected, yet braving the blaze.

The beggar-woman, the mendicant, the office babu;

All a common mass of humanity;

They filled the streets, filled the sidewalks

Of the erstwhile imperial city.

Buses, cars, cabs – a long-running procession

Rushing past shops of worn-out splendour;

And the babu rushing on, jhola on shoulder,

And the foodie junkets, the magazine vendor.

The kababs and rolls, the aroma and odour

The sweltering smells, the roadside vendor;

The splintered walls of the Raj looked dark and dim

A vestige of the days of imperial spendour.

And gradually, as I saw, down came the night,

Descending slowly like a blackened shroud;

The lights came on, bright shops and streets,

The din of the vehicles grew further loud.

I ventured into a dark alley leading off the road,

Cheap hotels offering illicit pleasure;

Men hung around, some rushed about harried,

Others loitered with all the world’s leisure.

There stood the old church, lonely at twilight,

The neon lamp reflecting on years of piety;

Quiet was the belfry, shadows played around

I felt the motions of the restive city.

I walked down the road, back to the rush,

Vendors selling trinkets, books, bright city light;

Silent ancient buildings, humming modern shopfronts,

Standing in the middle of the urban night.

Finding myself at the entrance of a lighted passageway,

Deep into the city’s bowels I descended;

The long winding passage, the brightly lit station,

The queue at the ticket window.

The rush of the trains, the whoosh of the air,

Harried old clerks and pretty young things;

They looked, they sat, they saw and they ran

I could hear the city sing.

The metallic giant with the sound of thunder,

Came rushing out from the bowels of the city;

People alighted, the giant set off

Through the dark tunnels and bright-lit stations.

Bright lights inside, some stood, some sat,

But all who entered, sweltered here;

Some talked, some flirted, others slept,

Catching forty winks at the end of the day.

I got down at the bright-lit station,

Ascended , once more the city neon lights;

The serpentine queue at the crossing of the roads

To catch the vehicle that would take me home.

Sitting beside the driver, the sweaty ride home

Through the roads and lanes of the city;

The teeming masses, busy road junctions

The cars, the buses ferrying people home.

And suddenly, piercing the rhythm of the night,

The distant sound of clamouring thunder;

The sweltering crowds rejoiced,

At the prospect of rain.

And then the rain came pouring down,

Tearing through the shy, pouring through the roof;

Washing out the din,

Filling hearts with joy.

Poodles of water, splotches of mud,

The aftermath of rain after a brisk shower;

People hopped around in channels of water,

Roads became rivers,

The houses are washed clean,

Some shining bright, others all red bricks;

The neon lights still looked down

The air was lighter, the heart was lighter.

And then I reached my home at the edge of the city,

Back to home and hearth;

The city lights dimmed

And the night wound up.