Poem by Craig Boehman
Painting by Menum on Deviant Art
Spoken Word Audio of the poem is here.
Kali Yuga
Bombay is rebuilt when the sky is lit
The gods bless the wounded streets and then retreat into Moksha
Auto rickshaws drivers share laughs and polish hues lost in day-before dust
Merchants more numerous than standing armies open shop and close their hearts
Community guards poke at coals choking in damp morning air
Beggars sleep and noisily dream of goras making eye contact and surrendering alms
all within earshot of the wealthy and bureaucrats in their island towers
A pack of dogs sniff and scratch through piles of refuse next to a man pissing
on political graffiti
Few cars – more fruit vendors pushing cart loads of hopeful rainbows
This is the time of sweepers, the time for reshuffling chaos into corners
This is the time of dog walkers and middle-aged pachydermatous strollers
But very few notice Kalki riding through the streets on his white horse
Harmoniously tracking the fair game notes of a CEO age