Washing off
A shaving nick
He peers deeply
At the smarting mirror
No, he definitely
Does not look Muslim
It makes him sick
Peddar gone
Altamount too
In haze city
The roads
Too few
Untouched by falling mosques
Nor suburban riots
After 30 years
Of Malabar Hills
Rising rents, in a market boom
Brings fears
For the first time
Since he being orphaned
Of being The Other
Their old landlord
Benevolent baker king
Now, as they joked,
Toast
His son
A hair stylist
He tried to reason
With tattooed Roxy
“Not me dude”
Said the red-haired queen
“The dump needs revamp
Hair sauna machines
This is for FOXY.”
Then he had
Bombay luck
Betting right
On crashing oil
He made his buck
Paved his way
“Slight move down
No more Hills
But 3 BHK! ”
Three months too far
He has begun to wish
He was a Bollywood star
Then he could
Have a sound-bite sulk
A tantrum row
If not a flat
Would get him
A reality show
Hindol Sengupta
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/house-hunting/
