Monday, February 23, 2009
The city lights are visible.
Tiny dots of life
That mingle with the voices in the head.
A gust of wind bring the voices to me,
And I become a part of it.
Coiling out of the flavoured cups of chai
That wafts through the air,
To rest on some furtive ears.
The distant call for prayer brings
A sudden quietude
As twelve pairs of eyes look on…