' The Nomads Of Mumbai '

Like everyone else, they came for ‘roti’. Immigrants from all over Hindustan in their ragged, bright, baggy, dull apparels. Wandering babus wid their ladies & kids; trunks & dandas & also some earning & begging tricks. I cud actually see some Pale shadows of poverty.
Dotting the street, I came across dis lady, her gestures pleading me, pointing at her mouth then her son. Her torn blouse exhibiting the circumference of her aerolae seemed as if she fed a couple of Bastards, who got conceived thru compelled intimacy. I cud make out her toss to the core. My heart dampened & I lended her a happy Gandhi.
I see these nomads cutting thru the chaos of Metro. The Rag-pickers, Mari-aais, Charsis, Whores, Beggars, Whippers, Urchins, Pick-pocketers, Street-performers etc..!
The constant banter of poor children & Eunuchs- finding a new way to ask a rupee.
Centenary thru dis, the 3rd Mega City, unwounds her rich heart for d faithful & d faithless, who travel miles to earn daily of her shore. And yet I see all forces of nature betraying them. The curiosity of their burnt skin rummages my eye for beg-beneficiaries. The hopscotch rhythms of d beggar kids follow me like a once fed Mongrel.
A time wen m in my vacant mood I think of all dis & I find it as a delicate otherwise harsh reality..!