1
Poetry
Dreaming In My City
Rutu Chheda
I am a seeker of the night
with a telescope in the balcony,
looking out for that one star
that claimed to mark a crease
against the darkness,
when my destiny
chose to sleep.
The sparkling citylights and the hustle
of my city, was a dream come true.
Or so they said.
Dream?
Is this what dreaming looked like?
Where nights were as lively as the days.
Where people slept with their eyes open.
Where caution took over comfort.
Where fidelity was disguised as love.
Every person walking in my city,
somewhere chose this life.
But I have never known someone here,
who didn't wish to see a shooting star
amidst the tall billboards and skyscrapers.
Every person walking in my city,
somewhere still look through their windows,
hoping to look at the night,
as it is.
Blinded by the lights and deafened by the traffic,
who wouldn't want to sit down under the blanket of nothingness
and hope that someday,
they would come to an end of a cycle
that calls for them
to be who they never were.