bad poetry for the aching stomach....

#1

The train chugs along, creeping through 

The towns,the villages and lands fallow;

sniffing and searching for a fresh brew

Of piping hot rasam with spicy potato.

#2

The sky-scrapers, the double-deckers and the coastal wave-breakers,

The pubs, the party and the rampant “impropriety”,

The lights, the nights and the guilty delights,

The posse, their push & their pull – they all seem passé

When one craves for a well made masal dosai.

notes:

The poet also misses medu vada, he recognizes the tonal consonance of chembur and sambar. But,as the destination is fast approaching, he packs his bags, salivating...