Calligraphy Of City's Nightfall Poem by Rajitha K.S. Ayyappan

Mumbai city at night
is an orb of neon lights,
like a galaxy napping
above my oval glasses,
as I reach its peripheral borders.

Passing through,
beneath the towers' shadows
that hold the star-stitched skies
on spires like traffic signals,
reining in galloping vehicles.

Green light arrows in—
streets move like a herd of wildebeest,
gnawing at kaleidoscope asphalt,
racing ahead
as if in a derby race.

But a walk through
the city's core opens up
new dimensions.
Each house whispers stories
of struggle; its windows, doors
unfurling light or
pinned in darkness
lurking beneath alleys.

Late night calligraphies
the city in murmurs of homelessness
whispered in bivouacs.

It slumbers through
the barking of vagabond canines,
through clubbing beats, night shows,
and pulsating traffic that
drains like a slow IV drip,
the city plunges into
a comatose state—unconscious but alive.