Monday, February 8, 2016

That night in Mumbai when Brandt asked 'Are you good with speed?' and I said 'Yes'

it was as if
I pillion rode the moon
on the Western Express Highway,

and every mile we raced on his bike
we reclaimed from the sea,

the Goregaon high-rises passed us by
like longing measured on a Richter scale,

and the sky, window-lit at Malad, tripped
onto us,

at Kandivali, the fortieth floors spun out
into the night till the sky was only staircases,

and when he dropped me
by those black mountains of Borivali,
I realized I had held onto my seat
like the black holds onto basalt,
like the skin holds onto bones,
like Mumbai holds onto sea.

2 comments:

bizarro said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
bizarro said...

Akhil, you crazy amazing man you! Now I know what you meant by "rush" and "not afraid". And here I thought you were being too polite to tell me I ride like a madman.

What. An. Honour.