Walking out of an art-deco cinema after watching a hero fight for his damsel, cuddly couples laughing in the last row behind me… Strolling at Marine drive to see passionate pairs all along the sea face, some on scooters cruising the bay.. how can you not be a romanticist in Mumbai?
A poem by blogger Neha Viswanathan, I enjoyed & want to share 🙂
http://www.withinandwithout.com
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Bombay is a good city to fall in
love. My lover lives eight train
stations and two full bus-stops
away. Ten rupees of distance
between us.
Courage comes easy. The city
pocked with couples, suspended
in amour. Wet monsoon shivers,
filling streetfood. Midday reads
to share.
Obstacles, like the sour smell
of suburban shit, humidity, the
crowded train. All defeated by
young love. Bombay, yes, is a
good city.
We spread handkerchiefs, sit
on them. One hand held, the
other, busy eating something.
By the sea, you explain, we can
sit forever.
But the beggars, and the sunset,
respective waiting rooms, dying
rush hour, ease us off the sand.
This is the restrained, timed love
of office-goers.
At Churchgate, I kept looking
at your growingly tiny face. My
local pulling out. I am already
fifty paisa away from you. Yes,
I love you.
19noonbaker 