Buses narrowly dodge the unperturbed man, woman, child, its crossing reviled in a plethora of languages this city far cares to imagine or be bothered about.
Auto wallahs and passengers debate the 'here only' malls distance whilst beggars clink their cutlery and sing or grouse, depending on their age, for alms.
The city continues with savoir faire indifferent to what had happened in her life.

She sits at the dressing table mirror. Free at at last, she says to herself.
But her eyes reveal far too many secrets interspersed with lies.
She cordons her Pandora's box with kajal. A black border around her brown green halo.
Her lips wait in anticipation, jealous of their upper floor tenants.
With a swift roll, Cardinal Sin as the label proclaimed, insinuated deep.

What have you in store for me, pray destiny? Adjusting her pallu and side sweeping her hair.
On her feet, she gets ready to seize the night. All the while listening to the radio playing and then she catches on the words...

'Walk on through a red parade, And refuse to make amends, It cuts deep through our ground, And makes us forget all common sense...'

* Inspired by the first story in the film Bombay Talkies and by the song Clarity by Zedd

Read more

Risus Sardonicus Design by Insight © 2009