The rain pelted the roof of the car
Like so many caps being popped
by eager children with hammers.

Somewhere deep within the night
a train whistle blew
near tracks that run through
the middle of town.

One long lonesome tone
moving, echoing, merging with my heart.

“We're home, we're home,”
his voice gently waking me,
running his hands along my thighs
urging me to stir.

The caps popped away
I fought the discomfort of movement
My heart yearned for one
one more whistle blow.

My baby left on a train
to another town
with her finger she wrote
"Maybe" on the glass
then pulled the shutter down.

How long is a "Maybe"?
when will my baby
be coming home?

My baby wrote only once
in fifteen years
it was the cruelest thing
you ever did see
'cos at the bottom of the page
she signed it with a -
"Maybe"...

My baby left on a train
to another town

My baby left on a train
to another town.

(Fade out)

Bing bing **** annouce
train to Chiang Mai departs soon!
the king sleeps dog barks

A ******* the train with witch's hair and dark eyes
Stared at me as if I was hiding a secret in the curve of my lip
Or the space between my eyebrows
Or in whirlpool-pupils
I wonder if there is something of the occult in the way I walk
Like a dead woman who adores the crows that pick at her bone marrow
Is there something in the hollows of my eyes that suggests
I am not afraid of the demons summoned to hunt me down
On my morning commute?

All days may not start well
Things may not go to plan
Punctuality monsoon will tell
Start as early as you can
But not always in our hands
Things at the mercy of rain
Is there any place to stand?
In a Mumbai fast local train?
More so when it is late
Leaving you at the hands of fate
Men push, jostle and bicker
Place to stand is a premium
At your expense, they snicker
For a while, it’s pandemonium
To and fro, back and forth
Swung for all your worth
Then the train stops when it shouldn’t
Getting further late when it shouldn’t
When time comes to alight
You are expected to defy gravity
Jumping a moving train with no clarity
Changing over at Dadar is no delight
Later greeted by grime and muck
Rain at Lower Parel adds to bad luck
Noisy motorists on a narrow street
Make your mind admit defeat
Reaching office is a relief
Your sweat beggars belief
Just the start of a long day ahead
A miracle not to lose your head