Mumbai
A truth I will never forget
Two in the morning riding a hornet liveried taxi.
The Tarmac rests from the burden it carries
from sunrise to sunset.
Lounging on the backseat like a renegade raja
breathing post monsoon atmosphere
laden with indigenous spice.
A human tick sucking the nipple of India’s economic miracle.
Strictly for the benefit of a far away entrepreneur.
A red light ahead, the driver stops.
We wait for green in the sleeping city.
A shadow beneath the wall stirs
merging into a stick insect dressed in rags.
The miracle has passed him by.
A digit-less body supported on a Mango branch
stands at the open window requesting help
in the language of beggars.
His outstretched arms end in fingerless stumps.
Wondering how he’ll hold my coins, I fish my pockets.
Green light fills the cab, the driver obeys the rules.
l sit in comfort with a handful of unclaimed rupees
looking back at a miracle of life in the middle of the boulevard.
I’m gifted with a picture that will stay in my eyes all my days.
He’s been there a hundred years and will be there a hundred more.
A riveting read. Brought Mumbai alive even at that dead hour. I remember turning the corner past the Taj and straight into a slum, and my partner at that time, nearly fainting at what she saw. A couple of observations: Tarmac does not need capitalisation. Not sure why you chose “renegade mogul”. On the whole they were extremely charitable and cosmopolitan in their courts, except when it came to the Sikhs and their gurus. I would have gone with “renegage rajah” which refers to the local despotic rulers and their blinkered lives. This read awkwardly – “looking back at of… Read more »
Hello Bh. I bent to your knowledge. Raja it is. However, I was always told Tarmac is a trade name and should be capitalised. Maybe I’m told wrong.
I have made a few changes to the final lines. I hope it reads better now.
Hi Guaj. I got the gist of the poem but I have some reservation about the phraseology employed. The line “His outstretched arms end in fingerless stumps” is a tautology as the beggar’s body as already been described by the alternative adjective ‘digit-less’. No big deal but what I found confusing was the last three lines of the last stanza. “looking back at of survival’s miracle in the middle of the boulevard, gifted with an impression that will stay in my eyes all my days. He’s been there a hundred years and will be there a hundred more.” looking back… Read more »
Hello, Luigi. Thanks very much for your input. I made a few changes while you were commenting, I hope the final lines read more clearly now. I wanted to impress that I was presented with two stumps at the window thus wondering how to offer money. In fact this was a true event and he really did have no digits on either his feet or hands. How he walked was truly a miracle. I used the word gift as a sort of private joke since in Dutch and German gift means poison. The hundred years comment was because there probably… Read more »
Yes, it reads much better now. Its meaning was always clear, it only needed a few cosmetic changes. You have to make allowances for the like of us who are not multilingual, The joke about gift/poison would have been more widely appreciated if you had italicised the word and added an explanation at the end.
Anyway thanks for the clarification.
Luigi, your language skills are far greater than mine. I’m only fluent in my own language and sometime I even doubt that 🙂
Yes, the poor will always be with us. Reminds me of a scene in Graham Greene’s novel The Comedians which is set in Haiti, only in that scene the money thrown to the legless beggar is taken by stronger neighbors. Great lines and a timeless subject.
Yes, there will always be those that fall through the net, no matter how rich the World becomes.
I’ll have to look out for that book, I’ve seen how badly the Haitians are treated by the Dominicans
I like this poem – it took me to India even though I’ve never been there – all my children have and a grandson too. I had intended to go to Veranasi this winter but covid scuppered that – so make do with youtube vids of places to see.
I will read more of your work now
Rick.
Thanks Rick. My reply got lost, so here it is again. I never went to Varanasi, even though I went to India several times. I was working with Indian guys and we never went near any of the tourist areas. I suppose I saw the real India warts and all. It was a great experience. I really hope India’s new wealth benefits all the people and not just rich businessmen.
funnily enough, an Indian bloke turned up at my daughter’s right out of the blue – I was away at the time – and he was the spit of me. And my surname (from a father of whom I’ve but little recollection) is the same as a mega construction company in India – sometimes I wonder….
Rick. 🙂
Unforgattable? Absolutely, and images that will remain with your readers too. Do you wish there was a way to go back in time so that a different ending were possible?
I especially liked your two closing lines. Unfortunately they are a truth that whilst burning a memory in your mind and heart, burns the word ‘disgrace’ into the history and instance of this World.
Thank you for sharing this. I really value it.
Allen
Thanks Allen. I was working my boss opened an agency in Mumbai. I travelled a lot in India. You kind of get hardened to the poverty, and ‘professional’ beggars but that man I’ll never forget. I still kick myself I didn’t make the driver wait until I handed money to the leper.
I didn’t feel good about it, but at least a few people got work from our little venture. I remember once taking a flight from Mumbai to Brisbane. The difference in culture is eyewatering!