The city jostles me,
like a stranger,
threatens to rob me,
shoves me
daily
to the railway station
along with all the spat-outs
of the city – the insiders and outsiders,
like me.
Beggars licking mudguards of cars,
a bunch of tribals fluttering like moths,
cooking supper into night’s tunnel
after the daylong toil of spraying tar
dissolve in smoke and sweat,
pimps fondling private parts
under the guise of massage,
hawkers blaring like butchers
buses goats dogs cows clerks squalor
sots with reddened eyes
and bloated cheeks
lepers (the split image of the broken head
of the Mathura Buddha!).
As I unshackle my bicycle
from the heap stacked like ant-rows, to flee,
the city like a caged lion
keeps roaring from behind

Published with permission from “A Poem a Day”, translated from the Gujarati by Hemang Desai.

This selection is curated by Yamini Krishnan.