i come in the way of a car
that came in the way of an ambulance
carrying the fragility of life in a wake of sirens.
a middle-aged man, in a lime green shirt,
wearing darkened glasses, takes an apple out
of a polythene full of apples, and bites into it
right in front of a condolence poster of someone's death.
at the kamarajapuram bus stop, someone other than me shivers:
it's a puppy, tiny, weak, looking out onto the road,
as if waiting for its own bus that's invisible to me.
a man from the nearby shops brings him some biryani
on a banana leaf but it doesn't eat, moves away, shivers, lies down.
the a51 comes and i get into it. i get a seat.
the conductor doesn't ask for exact change and that is a welcome change.
a girl gets on, says broadway to the conductor,
the last stop of this route, broadway, her mouth opens
and closes as i look and look away, thinking is there a difference
between me and baudelaire's gaze.
out the window i see a man watching his phone
on a mat surrounded by a sea of garbage under the medavakkam flyover.
i see four men throwing pebbles into the lotus pond through the grill.
i get off at my stop, which is called guru nanak college,
but is now known by most as phoenix mall,
and that is where i'm going, and that is where this city of nations is headed.
~ ajay
6/12/2024
