Sunday air
lathered with that butter-corn scent.
The white-kurti Mannequins have traveled a long way since then.
Brown Golas drip into cups that are not ours to spill.
Pink-Ponytail kid discovers her gymnastic potential on the escalator.
Trinkets and bangles are passed around,
the emerald-stone ones make the loveliest little tinkle.
The windows are so full.
The people so happy.
At the crossing, by the Phuchka stands, around the Chilla-walah, across Eliot Park and on the other side of the bustling bus stand,
they are all so adorably happy!
And now
Happy-looking Asian Paints banners are being put up beside the apologetic Kolkata Traffic Directives.
In a city that bleeds golden lights,
I seem to have lost mine.
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