In your town again,

the landmarks look newer;

Shinier,

this used to be my town too.

 

it no longer is.

 

School holidays bring kids in droves

into nests and town centres with play areas

that compensate

in the absence

Of what they used to call presence.

 

Space.

 

the vacuities now filling up

a proxy real estate mafia orgasm,

passing off for development.

 

Growth.

 

and I walked past,

looking for,

that old sign post in green,

one step down from the main bridge.

 

Vanished.

 

the white tenets of a sanitized

Chloroformed white sanitary towel based tin drum are all that remain

opposite the open air market

a yard from the fish store!

 

Fresh fish.

 

The road leads on,

tentacles and ridges

our first shared rickshaw once went past,

broken roads.

 

Broken people.

 

you were telling me your domain

was as well known,

for its local goon

as it was

for its proud minar,

straddling the temples,

In empty grounds.

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An Oil & Gas Risk Management expert, Rony Nair has been writing poetry since 1985 and has been a columnist with the Indian Express in the early 1990’s. He is also a published photographer and is due to hold his first major exhibition. He currently writes a regular column for two online journals; one of them widely read over South India. Rony has been profiled by the Economic Times of Delhi and has also written for them. He cites V.S Naipaul, A.J Cronin, Patrick Hamilton, Alan Sillitoe, John Braine and Nevil Shute in addition to FS Fitzgerald as influences on his life; and Philip Larkin, Dom Moraes and Ted Hughes as his personal poetry idols. Larkin’s’ collected poems would be the one book he would like to die with.

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