METROPOLIS WITH GHAZAL
Come walk with me through the bones of this bustling city.
Time hedges its bets in the spit-spatter of this hustling city.
On the streets, fragrance is rampant. Catharsis of us, strained
through the finely-woven forgetfulness of this muslin city.
A silent movie plays at the Regal. Speak to me of silence,
lest I scream mercy in the bare fangs of this cuspid city.
You and me at the speed of sound. Leave behind a note
for me in the rich, riotous libraries of this lovesick city.
There is a war on TV. The ratings are high. Lay down
your arms for me, in the bravado of this muscling city.
Mythology’s all the rage. The disco dance of antiquities.
It prospers florid as the footnotes to this tussling city.
Jesus speaks to me from a mosque that peals with temple
bells, deep in the wide-eyed throb of this puzzling city.
Siddharth, you should leave prophecy behind. Sing, write,
scream, prosper. Tonight, dream up this druglicked city.
—from Rattle #84, Summer 2024
Tribute to the Ghazal
__________
Siddharth Dasgupta: “As an Indian writer, to write the ghazal is to follow in a centuries-long tradition—from the ache of Amir Khusrow, the twin longings of Jan Nisar Akhtar and Faiz Ahmad Faiz, and the revered mysticism of Mirza Ghalib, to the more contemporary English explorations of Agha Shahid Ali and Jeet Thayil. This ghazal then is one leaf in a long line of flourishing forests, infused with an ethnic heartbeat and existential ache that keep time to lost cities, bars filled with anonymous jazz, and love that knows no agenda.” (web)
