Is he really about the black horses
Or something other than this,
About the sick and hurry times
Of modem life and living
Where there is no space for
Human values and living,
Where conditions are not so human,
Man living below the poverty line,
Life pulsating in the sideways
On the footpaths, edges,
People struggling for food and life conditions,
Trying to keep them alive,
Surviving somehow
While on the other against the backdrop of
The monuments and statutes, busts and torsos,
Equestrian replicas and busy South Bombay
Under the shadow of colonial past
Trying to discern off and come out
Hosting restaurants, hotels and lodges
With the food items Indian and foreign
Charging high for services rendered
But the poor people still poorer, nowhere
Unable to take food and dress properly
Standing at the crossroads of life
Maligned and marauded.