His heart ached -- if only

Meenakshi Mohan

his heart ached

he felt claustrophobic, constricted, choked

tears streaked down his cheeks; at midnight, he was still

steering the wheels of his taxi

through the suffocating

labyrinth of glass and steel and through 

the sheer density of the compressed crowded roads

where sirens groan, the earth moans

here in this city of gasoline and sweat, where the earth shakes

with the subway’s thunderous sound –

is this the city of the joy of gold and glitter

where he craved to come?

his heart ached 

ah! what he left behind the star-studded sky

where the family slept under its canopy

he and his sisters would play the games of counting stars

the greenery and meadow and where he could spend time

with his friends playing kabbadi and gulli danda

where they would race with the clouds

and chase after the kites in kite fighting.

where the family is together, eats meals,

laughs, and chats -- he missed his mother’s roti/saag.

his heart ached

he remembered his father, his hope 

and struggle for him to get him educated well

so he could get the best out of life.

he remembered how he used all his savings

and taking a loan to send him to the country

to the land of opportunities, alas! all his education,

his parent’s dream, his sister’s pride

now wasted across this distant land

where he makes two ends meet

on his meager salary and shares 

a one-room apartment with three others.

his heart ached

for his mother’s tender love, but he was imprisoned

in this glorious coffin of towering glass and chrome

where no birds fly, the moon and sun

find it hard to pierce these massive structures.

his heart ached

tears could not soothe his torn and wounded soul

he was imprisoned in this cage.

his heart ached -- if only….

Note: 

Gulli danda, Kabbadi – games played in India

Roti/saag – Indian bread and a spinach dish

---

Special Edition: The Dying City :: Setu, November 2024