I SEE A CITY

I SEE A CITY
By: Debaleena Mukherjee

Amidst the myriad lights of life and billboards, I see a dark pavement corner where squats a makeshift shop with a single lantern. Is this nostalgia or regression?

I see the Swiggy boy on a cycle weaving his way through buses and cabs with such haste and deftness. Is this someone’s hunger propelling someone hungry?

I see a malls that illuminate fantasy worlds of bold and the beautiful. Is this the place of make believe that has cheaper versions in the local shops?

I see on the other side of the road a young couple sitting together; lost in each other; lost to the world. Is this love that endures, or waits for the traffic light to change.

I see a shack cheek by jowl with a coaching institute. The board on the shack promises: virility, and hints at “women’s problems”. Is patriarchy so potent?

I see an old park with a ramshackle shed where weary deities dwell in frayed framed calendar art that are precariously perched on the ledges. Is this a world deserted by gods?

I see on the pavement a tiny temple hugging a sagging tree. The grass patch has few flowers ; plastic wrappers many. Have the gods made this their paradise?

I see young girls in lovely dresses, fresh even in the heat. Then I see a middle-aged lady wiping her brows with the cloth shopping bag . Will there be a blame game between generations at some dining table?

I see three dark coloured blocks that are dustbins but the garbage is scattered –lucky rag-picker need not dig. Is this prosperity and poverty and equality?

I spot a bookshop tucked in between a glitzy garment store and a jewellery store. Would I enter the jewellery store and emerge with a book?

I see a petrol station where impatience is fuelled and I see the air pump sign: “free air”, I draw in a lungful. But why do I do that?

I see an exotic bar with dim lights that allure. Is this where the dream merchants sell sequined delusions. Do bills disappear with the money spent here and is the traffic muted to peace here?

And yet:
I chat with total strangers and we become friends, maybe just for this half an hour.
There is heat, but the warmth of people is more.
There are neon lights, but the coffee and conversations have luminous intimatcy.
There is progress in the GPS inside the Uber, but the one verbal road direction makes the city a home.
The deluxe apartments have keen lights but the quaint house with an open window illuminates all the impersonal roads.