The train stops at Tatanagar.
Bringing to the mind
Visions of a bearded Parsi gentleman
Called Jamsetji Tata;
Immortalized by his indomitable spirit
And by Russi Lala
In his book, “The Creation of Wealth”.
I look for opulence,
Or, at the least, self-sufficiency
From the cool comfort
Of my air-conditioned coach.
What I get in return
Is the hungry stare
Of a dark-faced, impoverished,
Undernourished slip of a girl
Who does not even realize
That my glass cage does not permit
Even air to pass,
Leave alone
A grossly depreciated one-rupee coin.
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