On return to Mumbai

The city is daylong and sea –backed .A sea-child deeply dangled his feet into the sea at the misty radio club near the cockroach-ridden sea palace bringing back a tide of memories.

Years ago, I had bought my identity here, on a piece of paper, with unknown  possibilities in the fragrant harbor to come .

Now the sea is calm but afraid .I see someone’s lying-in hospital along with the juice hair parlors. Stock- brokers rub rotund stomachs. Scared dons account for deaths.

There ,at the junction , in a sea of cars stand  muddy-haired children. They have a nasty habit of poking their outstretched grubby hands directly into the holes of your eyes.