From the bus door

A Monginis Cake Shop flex hangs 

above a hardware and electronics store

and a man in front of it

speaks loudly into his phone,

trying to explain this conundrum his location,

slapping the other hand on his forehead.

Another man, this one on a scooter

going slower than a public transport bus

has his helmet resting in the front

between his feet 

instead of on his head.

(Is this blatant disregard for life

or staggering confidence about it?)

An old Nauvari-clad woman

bearing a big vermillion stain on her forehead

innocently spits her paan on a 

Clean Mumbai, Green Mumbai graffiti.

I get up to go stand

at the front door

and someone else takes my seat.

They will see a skinny girl

typing furiously into her phone

this very poem.