Mumbai is home, so there's no comparison. But then again, New York's a lot like Mumbai, which is why I choose to live there. It's fast, crowded (in a good way), the people are friendly and it's full of color and race, like Mumbai. Unfortunately, the traffic's also just as bad.
quote by Lavrenti Lopes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Bombay To Mumbai!
From Bombay to Mumbai,
Why can't the terrorists leave this land alone? ! !
Fisrt it was a bomb blast some years ago in Bombay;
And many people died in the name of the attack from the terrorists,
But the muse of Bombay in those days was like 'Bomb-Bay'!
Now the name had been changed to Mumbai,
But the terrorists were still not at rest!
So they bombed Mumbai as well;
With many dead bodies recorded after this act,
But is this the best solution for mankind to live peacefully on this earth? !
Why?
Mumbai, bum, mum, am, Imam, bam! !
There is no peace at all in this world;
Yet still we all do have a form of a Religion that we believe in,
But is this act also part of the teachings? !
Then, it is time that we behave well like human beings on this earth;
For we all need to put the world into a better shape with love than hatred.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Mumbai City
Mumbai has an excellent beauty and glory of its own,
It is an enchanting and colourful material world,
In the whole world it is very popular and well known,
It is the main business and film centre of the world.
Mumba Devi blessed to Mumbai and Haji Ali graced it,
All states men of India live in this holy place of Goddess,
For all citizens to dwell in this city is flawless and fit,
Hither the rich and the poor all live together equally.
Rush rush people belong to different careers of life,
They run from morn to eve for their daily living,
On the busy journey of life they find peace but no strife,
Sweet golden words of Marathi make them to live happily.
Maharashtra state is lucky to have the fantastic Mumbai city,
Daily visitors come to see historical places and its majesty,
Rays of the sun nicely reflect this city from the sea in reality,
It is surrounded by ocean full of sailing ships and boats.
Who knows! Who knows! What a wonderful city!
A magical busy crowded mass disappear every moment,
All are unknown but every one has a kind heart and pity,
Man-Woman of Mumbai has a large heart to welcome all.
Gate way of India, Taj Mahal Hotel and such other places,
Look so charming when pigeons and peacocks twitter round,
Every one will be fascinated by this fine sight of graces,
Trains, motors and cars flow like rivers in the body of the city.
Military, Navy and Airforce safe guard the city strongly,
Police-force controls its locality and its new comers,
Maharashtra Govt is aware of all and none can act wrongly,
Our Mumbai city is one of the richest cities of the world.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Bomb-Bay
'Bomb-Bay' oh Bombay! !
Of the tears of many eyes that saw your dead;
With killers in Jeans and T-Shirts.
The 'Taj Mahal Palace' was in flames!
And, why should people hate others so much like this?
Why?
The horror of bombs and the death people that was recorded,
Oh India! ! Why should this occur to you?
'Bomb-Bay' oh Bombay! Of the terrorists acts against you;
Mumbai oh Mumbai, then came the explosions on................
The Metro Cinema,
The Cama and Albless Hospital,
The Trident Oberi Hotel,
The Chowpatly Beach,
The Administrative Office in Mimbai,
The Gokuldas Tejpal Hospital,
The Chhatrapati-Shivaji Main Station,
The State Bank of India,
The Leopald Cafe,
The Taj-Mahal-Hotel,
And the Nariman House.
Bombs were on Bombay like 'Bomb-Bay'!
But many people died at the main station and the Taj-Mahal-Hotel;
It was a sad news on this sad day of many bombs!
Why Mumbai? In the land of the Hindus.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Let each of us light a candle against terror
Let each of us light a candle
On the evening of 26 November
Against terror
That burnt Mumbai
The same day last year
And had been a threat to
The very human race
For decades now
While earlier terror attacks
Were just strikes
The 26th November Mumbai episode
Was indeed a war and battle
War of fanaticism on innocence
War of rage on democratic thinking
War of so called faith on peace
Will lighting a candle
Wipe off the terror
Equipped with bullets, rockets and grenades
Yes, it will
As your lighting a candle
Is going to bring destructive mind blocks
To the glowing brilliance
Of wisdom
And make such terror drawn minds
Realize that the
Ultimate winner is
Human love and kindness
Your lighting a candle
Sends a message to terror
That it is an error
On their part to think
That terror will only rule the world
But the fact is
What rules and unites the world
Why the world only, the entire universe is
Human love and kindness
Let the number of candles lit
Be as many as
The number of people living on this earth
And elsewhere in other planets
Let that number outnumber
The total number of fatal weapons
Held by our terrorist friends
(I do not want them to be branded as foes)
And any others in the world
Let your lighting
Unite not only the peace loving people
But also bring into our loving fold
The terrorists with a changed mindset
Longing for peaceful co-existence
Of the entire human race
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Marriage And The Mumbai Rain
Sitting all dressed up & nervous
With a ring for my honey
Few seconds & he’ll be mine
Yes, it’s my wedding ceremony…
He asks for my hand first
& looks at me with a smile
As soon as he holds my hand
A current passes though my spine
My 1st relation comes in my mind
The love which was always mine…
That feeling so new of joy
1st time I felt for a boy
That scratching same name everywhere…
Those poems I wrote for my dear…
Those long walks while holding hands
Those messages were missing
My fear of losing him
& his shaking hands while kissing…
Our 1st fight over bad grades
Then moving apart for days
Then hugging each other forever
& promising to never fight ever…
These flashes in front of my eyes
& gives me a bitter pain
I look outside the church
And see the Mumbai Rain…
I look at the person ahead
I hold my breath for a while
He’s not the one I love
He holds hand in different style…
I turn back to leave
To go on my love’s way
I return his ring with tears
“I’m sorry” is all I could say…
I run in my wedding dress
I run through tears & Mumbai Rain
A new joy grows in my heart
This wipes all the pain…
I reach his house all wet
He’s sitting at a side
My photo in one hand
In other a ‘NOTE OF SUICIDE’
I slap him as hard as I could
Then hug him even harder
“How dare you write this to me?
If u repeat I’ll do your murder”…
He cries & cries in my arms
& hugs me for saving his life
“Though you are wearing a wedding dress,
Will you be my wife? ”…
I cry & cry so hard
This happiness is making me insane
I’m finally marring my true love
In this beautiful Mumbai Rain…..
poem by Vithika Jaiswal
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Mumbai
They call it a city that never sleeps,
Dreams at large; everything in heaps
Buzzing all the time, different people different cons,
It got its roses and it got its thorns.
City of murmuring traffic and twinkling cars
The multi-millionaires, the movie stars.
We’ve got it all;
The vada-pav and the dance bars,
Crowded local trains, almost on time,
Spirit of its passengers always sublime
City where honesty is rewarded,
But bravery is crime.
Success and failure are in twilight,
City where changes happen overnight
You might be swept if caught off sight,
Got lucky, then you be on a flight
Multi-lingual, multi-religious,
City of unusual weather,
I wouldn’t be wrong; if I say,
It’s a city where country comes together,
Every city has its ups and downs and she is no different.
She gives me an identity and makes me proud.
City where I was born and city where I want to die,
My city! My Mumbai
poem by Fahim Sayed
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The Peahen
A dream wrought by curry
Somewhere in Mumbai
great fans whir against the ceiling
as the old madam reigns
from her rocker and has
the girls come out, one by one,
picks this girl for her own
won't let me pick mine
from those she has parading.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Indian Is The Client's Race
1
I have a client (in massage)
Pana (indian) is his race
Studied ''daw'' in London
and talk with shaking face
His armpit like a camel
smell ''no washing'' feet
smell no washing feet
smell no washing feet
11
We have a client
Pana is their race
Having business now in Dubai
despite dirhamscrisis
they're going to establish
Like Philippine 5 - 6
Like Philippine 5-6
Like Philippine 5 - 6
111
We have a client
Spring from Pana race
Having same -same faces
From Mumbai Populace
They book daily at FEET FIRST
But mostly no good tips
Mostly no good tips
mostly no good tips
Xi Tao (Chinese therapist) don't reflex
Kai Gue refused their feet
break down
repeat all stanzas
shukran
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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Terror in Mumbai
Terror in Mumbai
The face of a young terrorist caught on
camera, flushed look and his eyes shine
with the ecstasy of total power, the one
who decides who’s to live or die.
This is his moment what he has been
dreaming of so long, the cause for his
war means nothing now that life surges
through every sinew of his body.
Should he survive, his days will be flat
and endlessly grey till he gets a change
again to easily kill and feel the ecstasy
of absolute supremacy.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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In the United States in 2009, more than 10.2 billion trips were taken on transit trains and buses. So far, the nation has not experienced a major transit attack since Sept. 11, but the March 2010 Moscow subway bombings and earlier train attacks in London and Mumbai show that we must be prepared.
Poems Are Made For Beautiful Things
POEMS ARE MADE FOR BEAUTIFUL THINGS
(Written for the Ilui Neshamah of Rabbi Gabriel and Rivka Holtzberg who were murdered in the Chabad House in Mumbai November 2008)
Poems are made for beautiful things-
Not for murder and for terror -
Not for cruel sudden deaths-
Not for hatred which kills without question-
And justifies itself,
By some absolute inhumane ideal.
Poems are made for life
Not Death-
We Jews want to live,
And they the Suicide- bomber- people,
to Murder their way to Eternity.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Burning India
Kashmir is as usual suffering
Bihar is flooding
Delhi just got attacked
Ahmadabad received d same few months back
IT is glooming in Bangalore
Riots are happening in Mangalore
Orissa is full of Weather racket
Mumbai turns into bear market
Bengal is swelling with Nano-Singur misery
Noida-gurgaon is busy with rape cases and murder mystery.
If this is how India shines, then where are progressive signs.
Is India really shining? I guess it’s truly burning…
poem by Yashpal Kothari
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Peace, Peace, Peace!
Terror strikes again,
Our Homeland India;
Mumbai city is burning,
World is watching;
Tears roll down for brave and innocent,
We salute their sacrifice;
Our hearts cry for help,
This brutality must stop;
Fear haunts our minds,
But we won't let the evil win;
All nations and every humane,
Try our best to end this hatred;
Bring back peace that's taken away,
Restore the trust that's shaken;
Do your best and God will take care of the rest.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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Martyrdom
(Dedicated to the Mumbai Terror attack victims and martyrs who laid their lives down with pride!)
I silently mourned in helpless agony
Tears of pain remained
Within realm of my eyes
I did not know where he rest
And the wreath withered in my hand.
I had seen the festooned lanes
When gods on chariots did parade
Irrespective of religion,
A procession of humanity
Observed obeisance, no god was ever paid
Every street looks as if a cemetery
So common death has become
And I dread it unusually less
With such pride the martyr died
Now death is welcomed into our home.
poem by Seema Aarella
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Living Like a Gypsy
From Chicago to Mumbai
Srinagar to Chennai,
I had to deal
With extremes:
Icy cold,
To hot and humid.
Biting cold and windy
To hot and sweaty.
Finally I said,
Out of exasperation
To my husband,
My body’s thermostat
Is beginning to protest,
I can’t live like a gypsy
At the risk of sounding bitchy,
Can’t we settle down?
Where the climate
Is temperate and moderate?
I thought, bewildered
He asked, didn’t
You like adventure.
I do, I do,
But in small doses.
Tears threatening to
Pour out of lachrymose glands
I pleaded
Will you please try to understand?
Nodding, he walked away
I have really no say
Every promotion
Means relocation.
But I’ll try,
Please don’t cry.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Right To Own A House?
Affordable home is our dream,
but the price gone, up stream.
Buying a property in New York,
London, Frankfurt and Paris
is an up hill task, but,
buying a property in Chennai and Mumbai,
is an up mountain task,
to the less privileged.
What are we going to do,
to equalize this disparity?
Are these cities belonged,
to the rich and middle class?
Are these cities mortgaged,
to the Bank of Cunning,
that need to suck,
the human fluid,
in the form of rental?
A third of salary goes for rental
in the first world and more than
half the salary in the third world.
Every capital and other cities,
of the world has had the sudden boom,
in the property values and doom,
the dream of the lower income,
group, and force us to stay,
in the privately owned property,
the rest of our life and,
pay the rental as long as,
we are alive. What option do we have,
to make even this mismatch?
Reason for writing this poem.
In the developing countries, less than twenty percent of the population own the properties, While the other eighty percent either renting or illegally squatting on people's properties..
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Urban
the old crone
slurping up
essence of chicken
soup
as though
it were chicken soup
itself, mis
taking the hum in
her veins
for the ima
gined chicken’s part
ing gift
while
I know it to be
no more
than hot
water’s mo
mentary warming,
and how mo
mentary when even naked
flame would howl
and wiggle
an in
jured fing
er, frost
bitten, coming
too close
to the
waft of de
parting chill.
[From: How Do You Withstand, Body; Publisher: Clearing House, Mumbai, 1976]
poem by Gieve Patel
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Laughter Club.
They stood in a big circle,
Started laughing, laughing
For nothing making gestures
At each other in mid mumbai parks,
Slowily turning into real
Laughter uncontrolled
Unfazed by the onlookers,
They went on like this
For quarter an hour,
Making their life merrier
Each day, they called themselves
Laughter clubs, relaxing
Their tired old minds
Early in the morning,
To start a fresh day's work,
Followed by this unbridled happiness.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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His mother is weeping
His mother is weeping
Near the lake several flowers were blooming.
Fragrance was in the air.
A cobra was lying near bush.
Beauty & ugliness lies at one place.
What a scenario was there?
A child comes near the lake
& starts to pluck some flowers for prayer
That snake bites him & he died at once there.
That snake was no other he was Mr Raj thakrey of Maharastra.
That child was a student of Bihar
who went to Mumbai for getting a small job for his livelihood.
His mother is weeping still now.
Have you any word to say her?
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Gone To Seed
“If you plant honesty, you’ll reap trust”
Aye, the seeds of doubt have been planted,
But such doubts are a must,
If wisdom’s to be granted…..
Seeds of valor, seeds of passion,
Seeds of equanimity;
Seeds that suit every fashion,
Of learning and acuity.
Leaders who sow such seeds of doubt,
Are welcome and accounted,
Than those who’d love to flaunt,
Are ones that are so vaunted.
Where honesty is a truthful story,
Tests one’s heart and mind;
Now enough’s been said of this allegory,
Dear readers: this truth you can find!
Copyright © SC
10th July 2007
Mumbai.
poem by Subroto Chatterjee
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