City of Joy

The train stops at Sealdah Station,

The squalor is annoying,

Paan stains, garbage, beggars,

What a city!

 

And I wonder,

From Imperial capital

And British superstar

To the present today –

 

How can this

Be the City of Joy?

How much of the past

DO we still drag into the future?

 

A local train arrives

From some far-off town -

And the carriages disgorge

Hundreds of passengers

 

From ash smeared saint in saffron

To Workers, artists, peddlers

Merchants, musicians -

Mahanagar blends them all

 

A man with a torn shirt-pocket

Stops on his tracks

And rummages through his wallet

For change to a beggar

 

A nervous student looks at his notes

Even as he walks

He has an exam to pass,

A degree to earn

 

A madaari walks

With his trained monkey

A lemon seller here, a candy man there

And hundreds of daily wage earners pass by

 

They will dig further

Into the bejewelled heart of this city

Despite all the emptiness,

Every Bedouin will find an oasis

 

And I wonder, who am I

To question this city

That gives more than it takes?

I look up and the train starts again…