I always went shopping with Munna.
He knows where exactly to go:
Where the clothes are just bad enough
to skip the retail stores, but not so much
that you can figure out that they are discards;
Where the sweets are made in boiling ghee
And not the oil that sticks to your fingers
Thicker than the grease on your bicycle chain;
Where the vegetables are just out of farms
And the women from the countryside
Do not know the trickeries of bargaining.
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Prices of Purchased Affection
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Monsoon Moods
I see myself in the clouds today:
How, with the darkness of my sorrow,
I shroud the sunshine of everyone’s joy;
How the anguished lightning fills my eyes,
Moments before I thunder out in rage,
Throwing a pall of tantrums to hide
The deluge of tears that escape anyhow.