Appu had heard a lot about a seductive city,
Where life was great and the girls were pretty.
As much as he loved his village and its people,
He was bored of the life there; t’was too simple.
The village elders came to know of his wanderlust,
They warned him “dond go, theyar ees a lot of dust.”
Appu was in a fix, what should he do?
Mumbai beckoned, so he tied his shoe.
As he boarded the train, he wove a few dreams,
Of renewing his life, as a taster of ice creams.
For he was armed with an impression that he was a gem,
since people rarely see themselves the way others see them.
With hope and yearning in his heart he stepped off the train,
Right into dog shit, which he had to clean with a lot of pain.
“This ees nott a goodd omenn,” it occurred to him,
as he bumped into a porter, who looked very grim.
“Tujhya aaichi…kaay re, disat nahi ka tula” bellowed the man,
“I dond speek Telugu” said Appu, tripping on a dustpan.
Unintelligible cuss words filled the air,
as the porter pulled at Appu’s hair.
Tempers here are unnaturally high,
Is this really the city of Mumbai?
Appu’s question plagued his thought,
even as the portly porter fought.
As sweat poured down the man’s face, Appu theorized.
It’s the goddam heat that’s the culprit, he surmised.
“Whai do they wear sowmany clowthes in this weather!”
For he knew that if the body is cool, the mind is clearer.
“Arre tu itna shaant kaisa ho sakta hai re!” said the porter, wiping away droplets,
Appu countered “Ai wear a lungi, theyar is always a breeze around mai privates.”
Where life was great and the girls were pretty.
As much as he loved his village and its people,
He was bored of the life there; t’was too simple.
The village elders came to know of his wanderlust,
They warned him “dond go, theyar ees a lot of dust.”
Appu was in a fix, what should he do?
Mumbai beckoned, so he tied his shoe.
As he boarded the train, he wove a few dreams,
Of renewing his life, as a taster of ice creams.
For he was armed with an impression that he was a gem,
since people rarely see themselves the way others see them.
With hope and yearning in his heart he stepped off the train,
Right into dog shit, which he had to clean with a lot of pain.
“This ees nott a goodd omenn,” it occurred to him,
as he bumped into a porter, who looked very grim.
“Tujhya aaichi…kaay re, disat nahi ka tula” bellowed the man,
“I dond speek Telugu” said Appu, tripping on a dustpan.
Unintelligible cuss words filled the air,
as the porter pulled at Appu’s hair.
Tempers here are unnaturally high,
Is this really the city of Mumbai?
Appu’s question plagued his thought,
even as the portly porter fought.
As sweat poured down the man’s face, Appu theorized.
It’s the goddam heat that’s the culprit, he surmised.
“Whai do they wear sowmany clowthes in this weather!”
For he knew that if the body is cool, the mind is clearer.
“Arre tu itna shaant kaisa ho sakta hai re!” said the porter, wiping away droplets,
Appu countered “Ai wear a lungi, theyar is always a breeze around mai privates.”
