By Sarbani Mohapatra
The city is bursting at the seams, Expanding like a rubber band; One of these days it will implode Its innards lying exposed For all to see and smell. The city is bloated; A case of guts gone bad Dyspeptic beyond repair But the fresh paint Over rusty street names Refuse to bite the dust And the city stutters on. Swollen stomachs give birth to Babies with swollen bellies, Fostered by the mongrel Before the bone-tired mother wakes up; All to be swept away by The next monsoon swirl Into the abyss of this unsleeping city... A whiff of watered roses Rubs off your ironed collars Just long enough for you to forget The saddest smile of a passer-by Who looks not much unlike you. You recede into its recesses And see that it is not what it appears You walk through this maze You call home, Tasting its joys on the tips of your tongue. You wander through this mirage And find yourself in its strangest alleys A giant bubble that can only get bigger Till, You touch it and it vanishes…
Sarbani Mohapatra teaches on the Mentome, an e-learning platform. She has done her graduation in English from Presidency University, Kolkata and postgrad in the same subject from Jadavpur University, Kolkata. Her writings have appeared on The Hindu, Madras Courier, Visual Verse and Cafe Dissensus.
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