Candles lit on Gateway,
On Nariman Point and at Hemant’s doorway,
Resilient soul of Bombay,
Candles of different colors,
Size and shapes,
Hues and aroma,
Should they not hoard them till ever?
For they will need these wax sticks forever,
For next is a nuclear detonation,
Right there at your gates,
India gate or gateway,
Next will come,
Sooner than you think,
Bombay you will need those candles then,
Not just for your show of deadness,
But to seek your way out of darkness,
Or will you make next of what you must,
Seek for those taxes you have paid,
Build some other characters for your city,
Is it not time to search your resilient soul?
Or just wait for what is next.
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1 comment:
Mr. Singh thinks...
he's Ernest Hemingway....
with a gun in 1 hand....
a pen in the other....
or perhaps...
Pablo Neruda...hmmm
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