Saturday, March 7, 2015


Look at the VT in the mornings for the rush of Bombay,
look at the black ocean at night for the hush of Bombay.

If you haven't been on the Evening Local from Bandra
to Virar, then you haven't yet felt the crush of Bombay.

You carry back the sea-gulls, the breakers, the waves,
you wear the sea like skin, feeling the brush of Bombay.

There was once "a tower whose top was in the heavens" like
Antilia, off Peddar Road: Bible warns The Plush of Bombay.

When his eyes met mine, the Local slowed down at Dadar,
the whole world halted, turned red in that blush of Bombay.

You would never, Akhil, like your kind before you, "leave the
streets of Delhi," then why like a lover, do you gush, of Bombay.

1 comment:

shikhargoel said...

There is so much of Agha Shahid Ali in this one. Makes me want to read all those lovely Ghazals again. I really like how you preserve that scent of Urdu in your poetry.
I am flying to Bombay tomorrow morning, this is the best thing I could have read before sleeping!