Castles in the air - they are so easy to take refuge in. And so easy to build, too.

आम्हां घरी धन शब्दांचीच रत्नें | शब्दांचीच शस्त्रें यत्न करुं ||
शब्द चि आमुच्या जीवांचे जीवन | शब्दें वांटूं धन जनलोकां ||
तुका म्हणे पाहा शब्द चि हा देव | शब्द चि गौरव पूजा करुं ||
- abhang of Tukaram Wolhoba Ambile of Dehu

There's No Freedom Like That of a Child's Imagination

கடலுக்கு உண்டு கற்பனைக்கு இல்லை கட்டுப்பாடு

Tuesday, October 09, 2012

The Bazaar Sleeps

The grubby boy washing out the steps of the half-closed eatery. A dog stands by, tail a-wag in expectation. In the next shop, a lights peeps from beneath a nearly closed shutter. The butcher's shop is still open, a gaunt attendant scrubbing a knife. Blood mixes with grime as it flows out to the gutter, only to be dammed by cabbage and mango leaves.

The marigold and jasmine seller cries out to the hurrying passers-by, three for the price of one. So does  the vegetable-woman, her head half covered, her voice shearing the silence. Eloquent, persuasive, the cadences rise amd fall as she plies her rehearsed pitch.

A shutter closes with a clang, a motorcycle roars, then groans away into the darkness. The clock-tower rings, I quicken pace. I can hear the hum of the last bus' engine, and the whines of the drunk I shoved and sent swerving across the street. Elbows clash as I run through the customers of the busy, busy paan shop, but the bus has begun to move. A dash, as I leap onto the footboard.

The streetlights seem dimmer as my bus tears away. The bazaar sleeps.

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