Direction can bamboozle me An autist mind thinks different As if in a maze, so divergent Can his thoughts be Getting lost so often Every new place seems alien Looking to trap you Till you lose yourself From asking for directions To seeing shakes of heads Losing hope due to inaction Not getting any leads Especially when it's south Mumbai I hop on to a bus As it goes on and on, I cuss Wishing I were back in Chennai Predictably I get down at the wrong stop Greeted by a run-down lane I was early, now late My panic rises to the top As taxi-wallahs say no Even as I give various landmarks I wonder where shall I go I am clearly in the dark I see a gentleman in a car Probably my last hope I plead for help Thus apparently lowering my bar The gentleman offers a drop Which I gladly accept A big relief in this heat As the ride comes to a stop He says we will meet later Since he stays in my locality In him I saw a lot of humanity As my day suddenly got better I had got the inspiration For writing my next poem In such an interesting fashion
This is about my recent struggles in south Mumbai, especially around Churchgate - Colaba.