I board the train
to enchanting Churchgate
home to history and millions
who juggle the distance between
heaven and earth.
to enchanting Churchgate
home to history and millions
who juggle the distance between
heaven and earth.
But I alight one station before
for no real reason
one might argue,
but to walk…
for no real reason
one might argue,
but to walk…
Walk past the boulder studded wall
that embraces the sea and
looks at the sun in the eye,
like a sailor.
that embraces the sea and
looks at the sun in the eye,
like a sailor.
Walk the distance
where one experiences a city and solitude
at the same time
as you walk past deafening traffic on one side
and silent poetry on the other.
The gentle sprinkles of the Arabian
washing off your blues
like a lover.
where one experiences a city and solitude
at the same time
as you walk past deafening traffic on one side
and silent poetry on the other.
The gentle sprinkles of the Arabian
washing off your blues
like a lover.
As the day goes by…
you see her grow
into a planet of her own
you see her grow
into a planet of her own
The city zips past her
like a streak of lightning.
But she’s right there
unfazed, unmoved
welcoming the old and new
in her infinite lap
like a mother.
And I’m just one in the millions
who visit this monument of sorts
each day…
Some making a living
some killing time
some making time,
some waiting for something,
or nothing,
some chatting up with the waves
that laugh and cry with you.
some killing time
some making time,
some waiting for something,
or nothing,
some chatting up with the waves
that laugh and cry with you.
As the day chimes by…
the crowds retreat,
the pigeons take flight,
the crowds retreat,
the pigeons take flight,
the skyline glitters
the waves make themselves heard;
her conversations with the city
she’s been madly in love with
fading into the night,
as she waits for her love to return,
like a mistress.
The day’s over and
it’s time to juggle again
between heaven and earth.
As I walk back along the boulder studded wall
she spreads an aura around herself;
As I walk back along the boulder studded wall
she spreads an aura around herself;
the street lights that surround her
making her shimmer like gold,
reflecting the parting beams of the setting sun.
When I pause for a brief moment to take a deep breath
and bask in the humid air,
infused with the ethereal scent of the city.
And I know that tomorrow
I shall alight one station before Churchgate.
For no real reason, one might argue.
For no real reason, one might argue.
Vaishali Shroff is a freelance writer, editor, columnist, and runs a reading club (www.eikthirani.wordpress.com) for children in Pune. Her work has been published in over 10 titles of the Chicken Soup India Series, her children’s stories can be read at smories (http://www.smories.com/author/vaishali-shroff/) and she can’t wait for her first children’s book to be out.
Wow.. !! brilliant.. i could picture myself at the place… So Peaceful in such a crowded place..
lovely Vaishali. Very beautiful.
Verey good. It’s great. Rekha. Shroff
Oh it’s.
Something different. Keep it up. Rekha
Indeed a beautifully written poem for a place that’s mysteriously enchanting
Thank you, everyone. 🙂 Appreciate your comments.
Just what “Bambaiya” is about!! It touched me.
Thank you, Munira. Mumbai is like an addiction. It inebriates you in many ways! “The Queen of Hearts” is the 7th poem in the series “Bambaiya”. If you like this, you may like to read them too. A quick search on “Bambaiya” and you will find all of them. Thank you, once again, for taking the time to read. 🙂