The afternoon slowly merges into dusk,
Then makes love with the darkness of night; slowly
the city puts on electric eyes, myriad of colors.
People hopping from one pandal to another; the kid crying.
He wants that gun, that balloon, that smudgy green tang which the badamwallah
Miserly adds to the mixture every time.
Wishers flounder, under the rusty lamp-post, behind the bamboo construct,
in brightly lit alleyways – on balconies, beyond the old speckled eyes.
The city dresses like a queen to celebrate.
She dresses like one too, her makeup bright, her lipstick verbose red.
Time for her to spread the legs; a car approaches – wishes flounder.
Bright lights, the greatest festival, and
Wishes, lots of them, raising their heads,