Ananya Garg

For this one, my friend,

I’d offer you a ‘charpai,’

A quicksand for your bottom,

Rather, take your feet up and lie.

Between half a vowel of a town,

If you give in to the breeze,

Know that poetry was in debt,

Not an offence to the peace.

Have you heard of Haileymandi?

Again, a blank stare.

Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi?

Now they seem to care.

After railways, it’s the bandarwala mandir,

The most crucial landmark in place,

Right behind is the batasha shop,

And young Sattu’s smiling face.

Is it the city or the guide,

Do we choose this souvenir?

For me, it was ‘nanaji,’

Maybe for Mandi too, I fear.

Tailed kites of the day,

Ursa Major of the night,

Maanjha lessons were stalled,

Those seven look for him despite.

Jugal Kishore Kirana store,

Mama’s shop but nana’s court.

No interaction purely transactional,

New customer, new anecdote.

Do they look for him too?

Or do those kittens he rescued one time?

It’s sure my parent’s grin,

Which has never again been so sublime.

Can I borrow your tourist lens?

Never to have grown up to this day,

The batashas are too sweet now,

And Sattu passed away.

Would you come with me to the terrace?

Let them trains pass us by.

They’ll polish our experience,

Of journeys platform-wide.