The Commuter Train
Passes thru the shanty town
So close on either side, it appears
We're passing thru someone's home.
Children play cricket in the narrow space between.
The batsman is angry at the intrusion:
His hit has come to nought.
Impatient, they wait for the train to pass
Outside the commuter station
A man and a woman
Squat on the ground, knees folded,
Under a giant peepul tree.
They have just shared a tiffin
Now they are sharing a great joke,
For they are laughing uncontrollably
The woman coyly covering her face.
The paper on my lap carries
A photo of a celebrity*.
Behind him an urchin,
Bare to the bones but for his shorts,
Dances a jig in front of the camera
His unbounded smile flashing
From his dark, unwashed face.
I wonder what reason
They have, to be happy
Or I, to be not.
- Pravin Gandhi, June1996
