The sunrise is now monotonous
5:34 to 6:56
Every day around this time
It follows a routine as bleak as mine
Most days it rains
The other days it’s cloudy
The month of August, grey as ever.
The sky has lost its touch
It’s barely ever blue
This urban jungle has almost lost all music
Even the daily tunes of
Cars horns and shouting pedestrians,
The ages-old Toyota Corolla
The noise from its broken AC,
The loud exclamations at every passing car
Of the angry hot-headed CNG driver,
All of these have seemingly disappeared.
Hidden now behind a veil
Of mundane, depressing thoughts.
The ruckus of
A bike that just ran over the sidewalk
The alley dog barking at every passing car.
All of which seems to have been long gone.
The desperation of a man stuck
Inside the labyrinth of his mind
Mimics the passengers in their Ubers
Stuck in traffic
The tiny children with their three quarter shorts
Crossing the street drenched in rain.
The smile of youth forgotten,
like the sun every morning the month before,
The cat spends his days sleeping
On the stairway where Apu would sit
On her phone, texting someone she once loved.
And at night the lights no longer stay on
At the bike repair shop
Which used to be
Surrounded by teenage delinquents.
Smoking their cigarettes to catch a whiff of adulthood
And when the sun has finally set
The enthusiasm of working late
Doesn’t seem to be there anymore
Instead, there is a loneliness that is not shared.
Tears that never reach the floor
Or the sounds of which never leave the room.
But it’s okay
I still sleep with my window open
Hoping perhaps the first ray of sunlight,
Hits my face directly.
And that maybe the wind carries with it
The music of escape.
Chacha will still water the plants
The cloud will still rain cold water
but it will touch almost every leaf in a tree.
Maybe sunrise is still followed by the chirping of birds complaining about their lives.
Even if here and now you lie waiting
Waiting to be held.
Waiting to be free.
And even if here and now
Your life seems bleak,
Maybe the tomorrow morning
You’ll see, dandelions
Which still grows in between the cracks of the cemented pavement.
And maybe tomorrow will be a bit better than today.