A Song 126

Hazy from Oberoi Rooftop.
A sun-stroked Arabian Sea,
lay flat, scratching heat boils, in April.
A fishing boat set out
from a Cuffe Parade fishing village
with Tandel, Tuka, Kabira.
Far off, eye-lined by a horizon,
Tandel,
in deep thought,
threw the fishing net,
hauled fish;
Tuka, Kabira put them back.
Yoing in-yoing out,
tired, dropped off.
White skies,
scalding waters,
cooked a squall,
the Met had foreseen.
Cows, cuts of cows,
mooing cows, jabbering souls of cows, bulls,
crashed,
sank the boat.
Evening crowds
lined up at Cuffe Parade,
for fish.
A tired sun,
switched on the air-conditioner,
to Tai notes:
Bola Vittal.
Paha Vittal.
Viewless from Oberoi Rooftop.