somewhere, half a world away
the darkness is lifting
as a reluctant january sun makes his way up
and yawns his way to work
sleeps mothers coming home,
their children, sleepier still,
herded into classrooms by their teachers,
the morning section at south point.
the rick-wallahs puffing away
the last beedi for a while
bhodroloks rubbing shoulders
minor skirmishes over the freshest katla
and the bhodromohilas win, as always
for a while yet, that rarest of sights:
gariahat junction, almost empty
doesn't last for long, though.
the city is waking up.