During my evening stroll
I overhear a boy telling
his friends that his mother’s
American friend has bought
a helicopter to avoid traffic
Another young man, I hear,
telling his friend to buy a bike
at five lakhs, as it’ll add to his
macho image, and girls of the town
will worship him at night
Another jogger is planning
to buy a swimming pool,
and a land on the moon,
for his love, I hear
After two rounds
I stop and buy a balloon
at five from the hawker
whose plastic merchandise
is worth a pack of cigarette
The beggars gather
under the big tree and painted
women are smoking beedi,
taking the boys close
to their ready-made breasts,
I find it in the gaslight.
