And Bombay* became a Village

Yesterday
the lights went off
darkness descended to immerse the city
wrapping it in its cuddly embrace

And Bombay became a village.

The candles were lit
CD players stood black
silent
the TV was gagged
discoloured
black and white

And
peace reigned.
Some protesting urbanites
made frantic telephonic calls
some creased teenagers
made peeved noises.
But the electricity board
remained long merciful.

The din of the city
was muffled
but the sound and hush
of silences
reigned
and poured repose
into the tired ears of a spent Bombay
as it poured
pitter-patter, pitter-patter
on the roof above.

Mellow strings
of a forlorn guitar
were plucked somewhere
and came wafting through.
Soft whispers heightened desires
as the breeze through the trees
spoke
and caressed Bombay’s tired soul.

Curtains lurked
windows stood to attention
plants in flowerpots
had splendid erections
enjoying
a few private moments
like furtive teenagers
snatched under cover of darkness
from ever tending
smothering
gazes.

A dog howled,
a cuckoo pleaded,
a Bombayite yearned.

Yes,
yesterday
the lights went off
the city went into repose.

And Bombay became a village.

And
a certain villager
fell in love with Bombay
once again.