A family of five lives
in a small, dingy room
near the end of a blind alley.
The sunlight plays truant
from a slice of sky;
the air reeks of cow-dung,
filth from the gutter.
When night falls,
the old couple huddle
in one corner;
the daughter in another,
with vague dreams in her eyes,
burns the lamp;
the son and his wife retire
behind a hanging curtain
with all their desires in their arms.
A mansion near the sea
nestles up in the air
away from the polluting earth.
Floors are arrayed with rooms
for another blessed five:
sleeping, living, dining,
yoga, sauna, hall for ballerina.
The scenario alternates
between reality and fantasy:
one is harsh, close to soil,
the other bizarre, removed
from the plight of millions.
A.K. Das