From Bombay

Side!

A vendor cried as he hurried

Towards an empty space on the street

Antiques, spanning decades

Were scattered on his stall

‘Ekdum tip-top’ he remarked

As if answering an unasked question

A question that he read from 

The curiosity of my eyes

I looked around to avert his gaze

Only to see ubiquitous stalls 

Matching mine

Sounds of different pitches 

Pierced my ears and made

My head change direction

‘Ekdum fata-fat’ 

In tiny intervals

The air having made a deal

With the sea, rejected the 

Sweat on my body 

Rendering my reality wet

Overwhelmed by the confusion

On the streets

And warmed by the resonance

Of its people, I stood still

Wondering how could it be?

The island had places

Which were not physically possible

But again it had a long history

Of impossibles