Prayer for Mumbai
Good morning from Mumbai where the moist air is heavier than the clouds as it rises from the sea. Like that large bird filled with all it could eat before a long flight in the mud flats near Airoli, Bhandup, or Shivdi, climbs slowly over dry land for a long flight dropping large drop, giant drops of rain that slice the air, devoid of the smell of the sea unlike the rest of year. Like knife through a soft part of a body and with a dull thud falls in brown muck churned by countless feet and the strange, reptiles and amphibians that outnumber the people in the city come out of their secret homes to surprise everyone with their strange eyes and colours, crawl up damp walls and crash against fluorescent power saving lights and go about lives like the people with damp umbrellas, underwear and hair.
Good morning from Mumbai where the sun will come out for brief moments to see if the city still exists. Hoping that the people would have left the city, if the islands are back to their original shapes and the water in between do not smell of their shit, chemicals and greed.
Good morning from Mumbai where the clouds call for redevelopment, pasting notices asking us to just vacate this place and give three years to demolish your homes with their fury and build in its place a city where trees towers and the mangroves will be the parks and the tide will flow free like traffic on a Sunday morning.