(Untitled)

In the stretch between Jogeshwari n Goregaon
I saw the worker-
Lying on his back,
Blank look in the eyes,
Gazing at the 60 watt bulb
On the side.

The gaze wandered to a high-rise nearby
N turned in a fixed stare.
Mother n son,
Behind the fancy lit balcony.
His phone burst...
into a chikni chameli tune.
The phone was answered,
without shifting the gaze.
His wife called,
Their son was ill.

On the next train to bilaspur
he'd be home.
With the few pennies Bombay threw at him,
He'd disappear into the darkness
With only the flickering light of the train.
With fear of losing a son,
With the fear of seeing another imagery-
Of mother and son.