From a road side stall-midnight-
I see my destiny reflected in a cold cuppa chai
You’ve been given the wings Frankie (I mutter to myself….prophetically …..pathetically)
It’s time Kiddo for you ta fly!
Now it seems, that dreams
can make a sane man do desperate things
”˜Whats it all worth? Eh fuck it’ (I mutter)
and quickly collect my things
Thumb a ride
with a Punjabi Truck Driver
who swings open the door and utters
”˜Well Sah, what you waiting for
Why don’t cha hop inside?’
”˜Which way ya heading?’ …. the driver enquires
as I sip casually on a cigarette
(inhale)ahh to the land of all my dreams
(exhale) to quench the thirst of all desires
He turns the Key
ahhhhhhh Mumbai, that’s a little outta your neighborhood!
I nod
The engine roars
and soon were shooting through the veins of Bollywood
Rushing through the electric chaos
Touching the interminable void
Sipping on sweet cocktails
of sin and celluloid
midnight cowboy cool-
under this Mumbai street lamp
Feeling all swanky
though I smell like a tramp…
But I don’t give a shit
Cause just you wait till I hit
bolding like a giant across them movie screens
took my own advice
rolled the knowing dice
Now I can’t turn my back
on my Bombay dreams
No I can’t turn my back
on my Bombay dreams
But cars (as they do) come and go
with no money men
or eager agents
coughing up the contracts
let alone da dough
No dream makers
Only dream takers
Celebrity fakers -like myself
Lining up with the whores along the sticky Bombay boulevard
Residing in the lost
….never found
Here no one asks me ta do my Pacino..
…Hoffman?
…my Deniro ?
I can play the all singing, all dancing lover boy
I can be your Chandelier dangling hero
But they brush past this future Bogart
nonchalantly slouched out on the street
Then an old lady takes some pity
You poor sad thing! she says
and tosses a few rupees at my feet
The sun sinks down
as the coins tinkle on the ground
and another star crashes and burns on this lonely Bombay sidewalk
like a cigarette-stumped-
-gone out-
but still smokin
and this ‘wanna be’-‘look at me’-‘Just you wait an see!’
calls it a night
and finally packs his hope in
Turning his back on his Bollywood dreams
Turning his back on his Bollywood dreams
I slowly and sadly fold away my pair of wings
What’s it all worth? Eh fuck it (I mutter)
and quickly collect my things
Thumb a ride
With a Punjabi Truck driver
Who swings open the door and utters
‘Well sah what cha waiting for
Why don’t you hop inside?’
‘Which way you heading ,Sah?’
The driver beams
but I tell him there’s been a little change a plan
I’m going in search of new pair of dreams
How I didn’t find fame
Only shame
On those streets of Bollywood.
but take heart to know
There’s a lamp post and a second hand suit
waiting for me down in ol Hollywood.
The pleasures of falling and flight.