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Two evocative poems, by Sunil, on the pandemic, exclusively for Different Truths.
#1: This street, That street a street awash in the orange light of the masthead lamp; it reminds them of a lonely lane leading back home, along with the chime of the bells of the herds and call of the young herdsman, when a quick-footed dusk spreads out its aanchal and hugs the rugged country in a maternal embrace. City! Never appeared its opposite so strikingly on this deserted summer evening in Mumbai. #2. Nightly Transformation The houses arranged on each other as stacked-up items in a gargantuan warehouse, tend to lose their day- solidity, materiality when the golden lights come on, an eerie silence descends, a coy maid lost in the silent city, under curfew imposed by the Covid-19, a new “tyrant” the fancy addresses, vertical columns, gated communities, become the castle towers and cells of a neo-Gothic noir being played out daily, in a post-industrial culture.
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