Onion Man

“You're so wrapped up in layers, onion boy, you're afraid of your own feelings!”

                                                                                                - Shrek
 
Not so , our man , Sakharam.....

 For everyone  who captures  nature, ethereal creations in life, and the magic of the Sun and Moon,  there is my blogfriend Slogan Murugan, aka M S. Gopal, who loves to capture the nitty gritty of a Mumbai Life, and vignettes of people who make the city run. One such , is the  Kanda-Batatawalla , who looks like a wholeseller, and has temporarily downed shutters on a hot afternoon, to rest amidst the onionical coolness. 

Most such, today are a story of fields sold off, family left behind, and a troubled stoic immigration into an unforgiving  city.

Amidst it all, he dreams.

Lives,
stirred in uncertainity
fried in the
suffocating heat,
recalling
fields,
once green,
with her coming by
with bhakri and chatni
for his lunch,
as he washed his hands
at the hand pump.

Fate today,
has washed its hands off,
he slogs far away
in a town,
in a dingy room,
powerless,
but
with a huge supply of
potential tears,
a great medium
for Stir-fries....

He catches a
shuteye,
crowded in mind,
his bandi
turned up over his nose,
some think,
to keep the
onion smell away,
but its actually
so he can dream,
of the bhakri and the chillies
and the tinkle
of her green bangles,
by the side
of a field,
that was,
but no longer,
is.