Sunday, December 6, 2009

Alms and the Man

Travelling in a rick,
Down the Western Expressway,
My hair blows and I make a face,
My nostrils hate the smell of Bombay.

Fuck! The light's just turned red,
There we go again...
Hundreds of vehicles spew smoke,
Making the air I breathe, most inhumane.

A group of urchins approach me,
One of 'em tugs at my jeans,
He has hungry eyes,
But he can't make me squeam.

The green light drives the chaos forward,
Damn I'm late. Onward ho!
I exhort the auto driver,
Kya hua Boss? Jaldi chalo!

No it can't be - again traffic halt?
Another pack of beggars man their beat,
With their hawker brethren for company,
Expertly, braving the rebukes in the maddening heat.

Irritated and irate, I swat them away,
Nahi bhai, agey badho!
Holy shit! That's here comes a chak,
Chutta nahi hai, maaf karo!

Sweaty and grimy, I light a cigarette,
and shove my headphones in.
For a second, I stop to ponder,
Will a rupee in alms, absolve my sins?

Just then a limbless wretch calls out for a coin,
I fumble about for small change,
Here you go, my good man. For a couple of bucks,
I sell my guilt and get peace in exchange.


This is my first attempt at poetry... tell me what you think?