Our dawns

Our dawns

Indian dawn breaks…

Weak yet steady waters flow from the street tap,

Clean vessels, utensils, and yesterday’s feet;

The milkman keeps the milk in a bag kept at the doorstep,

Or in the bags tied to a rope to be pulled later by their owners,

And glides away in his cycle;

The newspaper vendor deftly throws papers in the

Unsuspecting verandahs of seventh, sixth and third floors;

The spoon dances inside the glass as the chaiwala adds sugar to the tea.

From many other rhythms unrecorded, un-identified and unnoticed,

Emerges the day, sings a fresh symphony.