It was 8:30 on the clock as I left my home,
On the precipice of wandering to find my reckoning, I found myself drenched and forlorn.
The abyss of finding oneself often leaves you gasping for air,
Oh how tired my precious city looked, as it found itself engulfed in moments of wear and tear.

Amor, in its silent rumblings, kills the mockingbird in its precise flair,
Alas, the city of desires knows how to burn the midnight oil and not care 
I rushed on my way to the station to find my ride,
One that ceases the distance between my dreams and sits with its nurture beside.

Crowds that whisper in roars, 
aspirations that blind the line between survival and galore,
Hanging breaths that clench onto the last string of hope, one that keeps you awake,
I want to say Mumbai meri jaan, but the hustle often leashes to the burning stake.
My train was 20 minutes late, as I grappled at the sight that unfolded before my very eyes,
I saw my city drowning in the wrath of the ocean gods yet keeping the hope alive inside.

Grumbling stomachs, lost eyes, enclothed souls and guarded hearts, 
The spirit of Mumbai glistens in its tiresome charm,
One that transcends through the stormy streets to melt in its lover’s arms.
Jolting on my way as the train halted, the rain drops adorned my windowsill,
My watch clocked over 11:20 as I embraced the god’s will.

We live, we love, we laugh, we cry, 
In the engulfed sea of the drowning Mumbai, we keep going at the eternity’s sigh.
May the downpour wash our hearts with a kindled sense of hope, one that stays.
May Mumbai and all of us find our light, one that softens the animosity and radiates the day. 

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