Both Delhis

The city that sleeps

Lulled by the last drops at Hauz Khas

Heavy eyelids pressing down

Like the dippers of cars.

Dreams, stirred with bass of speakers,

Slither in with the flashlights gliding on

The roads of South Delhi.

Sees the first rays of Sun

With the ghosts of bhistis at Walled city

Wetting the roads since forever.

They vanish away in the smoke,

Rising from the shimmering hot oil of Kachori walah,

Making way for the sweepers

Of tonga paved roads.

Their brooms tied with a long shaft

Is no less magical.

Their rustling wakes up both Delhis,

The ancient and the new.