To the procrastinating patrons,
Here's an ode to the bloody shroud of God.
Here lie the embers of an ancient world.
Here's the bazaar and her bigshots.
The desolate chowrasta sprinkled with the fake chortle of soft saboteurs cruising the nightly radiowave.
The shy Gulmohar; all rouged up like a cheap film scout, overshadowed by the neon funk of carbonated-soda gods.
The cenobite street dog of Mumbai achieving easy-Nirvana while atomized droplets incinerate the Dharavi.
Here's the lost chappal at the feet of the Celestial Entitlement (he misses the sunflowers).
The laconic brutality of urine smell and the aroma of Chinese roses conjoined deep inside the bowel of the all-engulfing Sabzi-mandi Monster.
Here lie the glitch, the gore and the grandeur...
Listen to them breathe.