Dusk-light retreats from the faces
of discoloured buildings, once home
to truthtellers, hacks. They now roam
elsewhere바카라”scribes, editors. No trace
remains of their scurried labour,
heartbreaks, struggles of deadline hour.
Â
They바카라™ve been swiftly made redundant바카라”
perhaps they are partly to blame:
too deep, too soon, in this game,
too sure of self-righteous rants,
the news people missed the memo:
a new game was afoot, a new show.
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Further up: the old Mughal gate
(its roof dripping blood), Tughlaq fort,
cricket stadium, the passport
office, Parsi inn where we ate
fish and buns바카라”on both sides
of the arrow-straight road that divides
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the bureaucratic symmetry
of Lutyens바카라™ concentric circles
from chaotic rumble-tumble:
mosque, bazaar, temple바카라”filigree
dreams of a metropolis, capital바카라”
a story on a scroll in a bottle.
Â
First or second drafts of history,
erased by quick propaganda,
bribes, or threats, or random slander바카라”
reason gutted by sophistry.
The crows and pigeons of free speech
circle these ruins, beyond our reach.