At Marine Drive
in Arabian Sea,
Kabir and Tuka
winding a grandma wall-clock
sans keys, sans arms,
sliding a cracked wall
over a piano without songs;
first consignment
of Parsis making it to Bombay
and Peace,
on greens in horse carts,
from boats at Gateway.
Ms. Parsi and Mr. Parsi
at the bedroom door,
smiled good mornings,
carried forward
many times over,
in amen hearts.
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