It’s a city of carcasses
but, some move
a river runs through it
On a train to the dead city
I put my hand on my heart
to know I am alive
I step out into a stinking dawn
take an auto
drive on still looking at my watch to know how much time I still have to be alive
vijayawada- you putrid city, that cries — a wailing cry
your people are busy having snacks and chai
the bandis are alive
Look, a man is pissing near a food cart
another joins in
they both chat, looking at each other’s dicks
It’s all right
Vijayawada, the city merely cries
Further down the Bandar road
people queue up for a Darshan of the angry goddess
it’s all life
the city of carcasses cries
Now I get down and walk down a street on my right
walk walk walk
just walk to show them I am alright
what do I see?
people who have forgotten to die
I go to a house now
yes, this one
it’s a shuttered, closed old house- ugly and squat
with small plants growing in broken buckets and plastic cans
Hello, hello I cry
But, when do the dead reply?
hey wait, look
who is this walking towards me?
a vision in white
there is a cross in her hand
the book in her black bag
she is old
but her hair is pitch black
her skin is unlined
but she has forgotten her reading glasses
she is the woman who moves but has forgotten to die
Will the woman in white get a funeral in this city that cries?
a city of rotting carcasses who sit in fancy restaurants, drinking whisky and rye?
ah! this rotten, dead city sure knows how not to die.