In the name of the cowherd god,
You turned pink at the turn of the clock.
When cattle walk home,
I take my phone out to square you out onto an IG story.
This story is interrupted
time and time again
by tentacles of this ugly city –
people’s bobbing heads, and truck headlights.
Bangalore grows into Eternity
And my taxi ride never ends.
I square and square your lavender
But it spills out of my frame.
IG stories be damned!
Damn you, lilac piece of sky, I say,
You belong in my smartphone
You belong in my pink cocktail
You belong in my colourless heart –
I need to grab you like sand-granules in my five fingers.
This ugly city shields you from private ownership.
The cowherd sky refuses my phone, my wallet, my finger, my heart.
Atreyee Majumder is a writer and anthropologist based in Bangalore.
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