I distinctly remember this.
Me with thick black frame glasses,
bell bottom pants,
feeding pigeons,
at the gateway of India.
The Arabian sea on one side,
the Taj hotel on the other.
My dad,
wearing equally thick black frame glasses,
bell bottom pants, holding my hands.
My mother,
wearing horrendously large sunglasses,
saying, 'be careful!'
Memories,
Of when Mumbai was Bombay.
Bombay, today I mourn for you.
I mourn for my Bombay,
when innocence was normal.
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