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. 

One Comment Add yours

  1. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

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