Modern Bazaar

There is a Classical India lurking
somewhere in the Sandstone that paves
Modern Bazaar.
Or maybe, it is hiding in the
pumping walls of  the hip club: Opus
and the tall glasses of Kingfisher beer
they slosh over the bar, it tastes like the formaldehyde
they add to keep it fresh on the shelves
in this 120 degree May heat.
The Bangra beats and Bollywood films
we go , puzzled, on the weekends
trying to understand what makes them
hot
    hot
          hot
like desert wind and the National Stadium swimming pool.
That too, is full of Sandstone, the magic rock
it traps that ancient element:
the mold, algae, must and dust
that surrounded Akbar as it surrounds us

                                                                now.

Penetrating our lungs and our sprits
making this city fantastic, the Red Fort red
the winter sky slate gray,
This Modern Bazaar is filled to the brim
with microorganisms and miniature replicas
of the universe