The Tentacles
Local trains like
Those frozen
Dry sandwiches with
Squishy tomatoes
Dangling cucumbers and
Stale cheese
That I eat.
Clammy wet palms
Mingling of
Sweat and Salt
Their tantalizing
Yet agonizing flavours
Tickling my
Sensory buds sharp.
Their grimy steel
Odour choking
Me in its
Clutches fiery
Their piquant taste
Leaving my
Palate unsatiated
Craving and clamouring
For more.
O Mumbai!
What are you
Without them?
A deadly silence...
Maybe a
Mere empty shell
Tossed into
The vast ocean.
For, Mumbai
Abides in them
And they
Are her icions-
Harshest yet
Most self-effacing
Of all.
Hidden in
The city’s grime
They never
Fail to irate
Me, but
Most importantly, never
Fails to
Wonder me.