Six May Day stories

1.

What is more important?
A sturdy nylon umbrella

On a rainy day in Cherapunji
That can poke at blood-sucking leeches
 

Or a sitar 

(Made by none other than Mainuddin Gulabsahed Sitarmaker of Miraj)
That plays Raga Malhar of its own accord



2.
The jewel shops near Chinchpokli
Aren’t a sign of prosperity
They exist to pawn family heirloom


3.
All through the Monday night
They walk bare-feet through halogen-lit streets.
Past well-patrolled naaka-bandis

In Charkop and Oshiwara

In order to reach their god
 

They know not that

Cabs crawl by
With cheap whores (mogra in hair)
Who pray to their god
For a moment of hormonal distraction
Before the Tuesday morning prasadam


4.
He called the TV station:
Look out of your window
The sun hasn’t emerged, today


5.
In Amritsar
I sat on Papaji’s shoulder
Have gola-sherbet

In tri-colour
 

When I shut my eyes.
I see Lahore, a few kilometres away

It’s 1929
Nehru on a white stallion
Saying Poorna Swaraj to all and sundry
 

That's when
Papaji plonks me back on Grand Trunk Road

Wake up

Don’t let thoughts
Of the dead

Be smuggled across the border

6.

I was almost murdered

On day one of May

Said he to me

Digging the ditch, deeper

What happened, I asked?

I decided to stop working, he said

So what, I asked?

He wheezed through his mouth

Life, almost killed me for that