I never can call you “Mumbai”:
In one corner you will always remain
The Bombay of my youth, of dreams and wild forays
Into Baghdadi and Leopold.
Taj Mahal Hotel stands stately, Brabourne stadium echoes a flood
We’ve come a long way lately, it’s been “so far so good.”
Memories creak into my bones Bombay, I remember you well.
Memories woven with rain washed streets at dawn
Autos racing from Dadar station crocheted into blankets at Nanavati
Where my father’s voice was forever silenced.
With an expert scalpel.
Oh Bombay, you carry my weight
My sighs, my laughter, my tears
And you live with me as surely as I live with myself
Triumphant and lonely as a cancer
Coursing through my veins.
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Call it Bombay or Mumbai, the city haunts us like a lovable ghost. I could visualize the whole description. I was a regular at Baghdadi and just near Leopold, my friend has a cybercafe. Also been to Gokul once and quite a seedy place to drink but so much fun.
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