through the smile shaped holes in our dreams,
flitting in and out of sleep,
surrounded by whispered voices and moonbeams.
the skies indulge us in our little flights of fancy
like kites against cotton candy clouds;
soaring high above the din of chemical emotions,
singing its own songs bereft of doubt.
stranger faces in the neon glow
tread pavements of a million brilliant hues
as songs leak onto the pavement
from haunts still churning out 12-bar blues.
indifferent stories pass each other by on the streets,
exchange pleasantries or avoid each other,
each being a kaleidoscope of infinite possibilities;
bur rarely does anyone seem to bother.
silent waters lap softly by the feet
of friends together on a chilly winter evening,
watching the city's bridges shine,
while softly of forgotten carnivals they sing.
the city stands quietly by a corner, silently watching
its people colour their canvases.
each dab changes the city and us; yet never do we notice;
we just paint away our days.....
n.b. a lot of things went into these few lines. sankar's chowringhee, old bengali films, satyajit ray, anjan dutta, and some very personal experiences. we may love our city; some of us may even hate it. but it's impossible to remain indifferent to it, isn't it?
