A supermarket in Mumbai suburb

People walk silently

Along the well-lit isles

In a crowded supermarket,

Chatting on cell phones,

Picking up sexy items from

Shelves groaning with

 Various products well-packaged,

And neatly labeled;

Each one

Shrinking from the other;

Waiting in the long Queues,

Trolleys stuffed with assorted goods,

Groceries, fruits, veggies, toothpastes and brushes

All poured into the cavernous belly of the trolley by

Hungry hands groping the backs of the

Branded products, slim or fat, all

To be loaded onto the idling cars outside

By the families aroused by the displayed items

On open long shelves,

 All the guys

---And I see Allen Ginsberg, bespectacled, bearded and fierce among the silent shoppers for a second and then his unkempt figure disappears in the Sunday-evening crowds milling everywhere---

Waiting quietly before the till

And a grim dumb cashier

That never smiles;

II

Down the riverside,

A frail woman sells the ladyfingers

Green and fresh

Kissed by the breeze from the placid river,

A man climbs down and asks,

How much, dear aunt, is the ladyfinger?

She quotes,

He haggles,

The woman says finally,

Smiling, her face veined,

Take it son, at your price

It is closing time,

And I have a long way

To my village home.