The Call of the Crow
Common, they call me, a common crow,
I am chased from their windows for creating a row,
In their city, where everyone clamours to be heard
Above the din- each one merely, a part of the herd.
Cars honk, people rush, chasing success, going for the kill
I track them from the star apple tree, or a window sill,
Grabbing what they can, clamouring for attention
Jostling and juggling, their lives a constant friction.
Dazzled by the unusual- for to them, that has glamour and beauty
With binoculars and cameras, they run after migratory birds that fly through their city
While I, black and grey, with a croaky caw, am not worth a look,
They dismiss me with stones, a sharp shout, as if I am a crook.
I know, though, that I am intelligent and street smart,
I can even count, and am determined to finish anything I start,
So let them ignore me, I will still sing for myself,
And I have learnt how to get by without any help.
In my eyes, I am beautiful, my coat a black sheen
Making a pretty picture, a striking contrast amidst the green,
And I bet this city wouldn’t be the same, without me swooping high and low,
For, can you imagine Mumbai without a single crow?
Vignettes of Dawn
Light footed, heavy-hearted
Into the musing
Hush of dawn.
Gilded and golden-caged,
Light spills on
To the floor,
Climbs the ceiling,
Dances in confinement.