Banjara Boys

Under merciless sun
at a crowded corner
where city streets crisscross
four banjara boys
beg and brawl.
Alien tongue,
lively limbs,
almost naked,
gilded with soot and dust,
eyesore to the passers-by,
like monkey they freely swing
 before rosy eyes, carp faces,
slurpy muscles, oily palms,
polished nails, black coats,
hot pants, long sarees.
some hurl coins from the sky,
some abuse with choicest slangs
they’ve mastered  in college days,
a cabman hurriedly shields windows
and takes a shot of the year,
a lady turns her look in horror
a gentleman lazily lights a cigarette
and blows rings to the colourless sky
a young tuktuk  carrier frantically
starts humming a hot Hindi tune
and checks his biceps with a tape.
Leaders with folded hands
and wining faces  fastened to
poles and pillars , bars and beams
bird-less cables
 loosely hanging overhead,
signal turns green,
legs and wheels,
masters and maids
crash and clash.
Bright boys outsmart the mob
they coolly retreat to
and take a smoke with style
oblivious to who fuck who
or who usurp our moon,
but eyes set to the pole
and they tensely wait for the red.

Abu Siddik

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