How do you find flowers in this city

We both stink
Of a pungent smell
of Poverty and Hunger.
Through our hairy armpits
Runs an endless horizon
Of slums.
We met
In the lofty streets of
Rural France
We came from Mumbai and Bogotà
Trapped in the perfume
Of abundance.
We knew each other
Long ago
Before meeting each other
On Pablo Neruda's itchy testicles
Lies the philosophy of Advaita Vedanta.
Here,
Krishna knows Nicolàs Guillén by heart.
Buddha eats guacamole for his keto diet.
We are just a few pages
And a few continents apart.
When my sister Alejandra cried
On the day of my departure
We hugged each other tightly
To suffocate our miseries.
We know each other very well
Through the eyes of our politicians.
Through immigration booths
Through the bloated stomach
Of our inflated currencies.
Don't worry
My country is not foreign to you

It's just a country of
One billion 4 hundred million
Buendias
One big fat swollen Macondo.
We know each other through our illegal settlements
Through house-crushing bulldozers
My dear brethren
The sky over our filthy cities itself is illegal
Is there a bulldozer that can take down the sky.?
My Hispanic brethren,
Someone died recently
Falling because of a pothole in Mumbai
His red blood
Mixed with dirty brown mud
In it
I saw your reflection.
My Mexican
Colombian
Chilean Brethren.
You are here
Just a few pages
And a few continents apart.

The city lives
On a bloated stomach
As the local trains
Run through its veins
The trains vomit people
People vomit work
Work vomits wealth
Wealth vomits hunger
We all are some dirty vermins
Swimming in this vomit of hunger
However
Somewhere
In a quiet Starbucks in Colaba
The rich of the city
Are sitting with Rotten wisdom
Written in Greek, Latin and Sanskrit
The rich of this city
Live in a pile of shit.
Mumbai
A disgusting mixture of
Poor man's vomit
And rich man's shit
I wonder
How do you find flowers in this city.?
One half-naked beggar
Far away from vomit and shit
Stood up on byculla station
Flashing his Penis
In front of 6.29 AC Fast
Said

"Akkha Mumbai mere Land pe bhenchod"

On a drowsy monsoon afternoon
You take a walk
At the Talao Pali lake
When it's about to rain
But it doesn't
Your face colored
with green shadows
Of bent trees
The leaves are touching the lake
You see a lot of things there
A young couple
The girl crying in agony
And the boy looking at the stillness of the lake
You see an old man
Sleeping in the shadow
A lonely middle-aged woman
Talking on phone with someone
Hiding her face
You see two HDFC bank employees
Drinking tea
They are discussing inflation
A half-naked beggar
Is drunk and is having a discussion
With a nearby tree
He becomes violent
Curses the tree and spits on it
You see another couple
This time happy
You stop walking
You gaze at the water
You can clearly see some dirty oil
On the water of the lake
This is the oil
of some deleted selfies,
Some broken promises,
Some kisses refused or forgotten
Some proposals
Some shame
Yet you finish your walk
Completing a circle on an incomplete day
And you stand
Near Jambli Naka
Hungry and colorless
Submerged in the sea
Of black and yellow rickshaws
On a drowsy monsoon afternoon
At Talao Pali lake
When it's about to rain
But it doesn't.

In the library of my University,
Friedrich Nietzsche
Puts his hand under the old desk
To give a Handjob to his buddy Arun Kolatkar
Kolatkar moans in a divine orgasm
From the penis of his poetry
He ejaculates words -
"Disturbing a tile or two"
As a librarian
I ignore that
In another corner
Sits the son of a local leader
He opened his Macbook to complete his economics project on poverty eradication
Karl Marx was minding his own business
Pretending to read Adam Smith
He goes to that kid
Shuts his MacBook and screams
"Lavde tere baap ka library hai kya bhenchod"
As a librarian
I ignore that as well
In the middle
Grace and G A Kulkarni
Both are explaining an important topic
To all the beautiful girls in the class
The girls didn't understand shit
But they were listening anyway.
As a librarian
I was checking them out
Keshavsut, Balkavi and Wordsworth
Are writing their assignments
Dilip Chitre doesn't give a fuck
If someone copies his homework
These are the normal scenes in
The library of my University
One day,
Marx and Narayan Survey
Gave tapli to each other
As a librarian
I didn't like that
I went there to scold them I said
"Is this how you guys should behave in the University? "
Survey got mad
He smashed his book on the table
And exclaimed
"Fuck you bro, this is my University..!"

Sometimes my own ideas, doctrines, poems and ideologies become revolutionaries..
And I stand in front of them as a helpless Bastille.. ready to be taken by them..
I stand before them as a naked prison
A symbol of tyranny and oppression
Silent but shouting the cruelty.
O my poems and ideas
Revolt against me
Come and climb my walls and my towers
I who ruled you like a despotic animal
I who regimented your existence
I who created you and then enslaved you
Come and rule over me
Come fly high your revolutionary flag
Come and take over me
Rule me my poems
Rule me my thoughts
So that you and me will be eternalized in the absolute journey of time
And let there be a mark on the infinite
Let there be ink and blood
In the same cup
And let your and my destiny
Drink this elixir
For the end of this ancient conflict
Come my poems
Come my thoughts
Take over me.