Being Homeless

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No walls no bricks
No ceiling no floor
The joy of looking out of window
We don’t know
No stepping in and out from door
Where our skin feels the ground
Is the place we call our own


The rush the scuttle to be back home
Remains to us a story unknown
The comfort that most take for granted
Is beyond our means and more


All netas, votish rhetoric
Adhaar and id cards
Not mumbaikars not delhites
We are shabby unacceptables all our life


In heat ,in chill we get killed
It rains ,it floods we get killed
For papers and news it is a matter of numbers
Not a bunglow , not a palace
We dream of home in our finest slumber


Staring at the never ending skies
I open and close my eyes
A hazy hope clouds my mind
Uncertain undeciphered
May be a hope to live
May be a hope to die



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