Scene1 Poem by Jay Kasturi

Between the taxicab’s window rolling down an inch
and the beggar’s hand darting in
is fraction of a second,
an infinity of misery.
A summer afternoon in Bombay,
the smell of slums and diesel in the air.
My friend asks me not to bleed from my fingers,
lest the beggars will mob us.
Milk of human kindness curdles and dries
in its sluices into powder, fit to color
the afternoon social tea.

(2001)