The city’s stark realities, poverty and labour, contrasted with the privileged life within, creating a dissonance that Tirtho’s poem struggles to reconcile, exclusively for Different Truths.
Every time that woman who wore weariness on her face
like a sadhu’s stoicism
and carried an emaciated child in her lap
while pleading for an iota of my empathy –
looked at me,
my eyes stared into hers
and saw the shimmering light of high-rises reflect on them,
a lullaby drifting
and caress of a moon’s ray rocking the cradle.
Every time that man whose hairline receded
like the retreat of a glacier
and who carried a heavy bag on his drooping shoulders
as he delivered the groceries –
came to my door,
I thought about the glow of a sunset on the horizon
falling on a neat sofa
an old couple sipping tea
and a grey zone turning pink.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
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