From The Balcony of R-4

This February, on the 4^th, to be precise

I rented a new house. R-4,

that is what it reads.

A double story and park facing

It stands in the heart of a posh colony

surrounded by big houses and busy people.

Everyone here carries a little ego—

the maid that comes to cook my neighbor’s food, just cooks.

By that I mean, she doesn’t clean, or wipe or dust, even if she spills.

The stove is black, dark black with stains of spices, flour and turmeric mixed with oil, gravy and all that ever fell over it.

The sink is bad too, miserable. Black and sticky.

Then comes the lady who mops the floor, she just mops

she cleans the rooms and stacks the waste besides the kitchen, and

God knows, who picks it up from there,

but once or probably twice a week it is gone,

and the little dustbin that is all covered in a paint of vegetables and chicken gravy stands relieved and empty,

for a few hours, until the heaps start coming again.

There’s a balcony, too.

Which overlooks the road below, and a big house on the opposite side.

In that house lives a girl, probably in her approaching 30s

who is frequently visited by a friend, or maybe fiancée.

He comes in this navy blue Mercedes SUV,

Sometime after dusk, and when he halts the giant car, and opens the door to get down.

THEN! YES THEN!

There is this mesmerizing blue light

that falls from the bottom of the rear-view mirror

and projects the Mercedes logo on the dusty road.

Some five seconds later, it shuts off,

but, it has already cast its magic and seeds of desire sprout.

Then as he opens the trunk of the car, and fetches a hundred-rupee Parley-G packet

all stray-dogs come wagging.

I have seen his love for them, he feeds them every day.

And I have seen their love for him too,

when he leaves somewhere at eleven, they follow the car till the end of the road.

He leaves me in thoughts of luxury and of doing something good…

Well, that is all that's good about this place!