Dawn, New Delhi.

Dawn, New Delhi

In the pre-dawn darkness,

a cacophony of car horns

fills the chilly air.

The city, at this early hour,

already choked with traffic fumes,

is wide awake and bustling;

and green and yellow tuk-tuks,

jostle in mid-carriageway,

hustling for passengers,

for any casual passer-by

is a potential fare.

Chai stands on dusty corners

dispense their sweet and spicy brew;

and hasty breakfasts are consumed

with fresh bread baked at fast-food stalls,

while vendors stir vast steaming pans,

and dimly-lit and makeshift shacks

line every thoroughfare.

Underneath the railway bridge,

in massive bundles, piled up high,

hot from the press, the morning's news,

in English or in Hindi,

which young and nimble-fingered boys

untie and sort and distribute

to buses, trains or news-stands,

with gossip, politics and crime,

from India and elsewhere;

And as dawn breaks to light the scene,

in corners and on every step,

amid the trash rough sleepers stir,

impassive or with outstretched hands,

and children watch with pleading eyes,

while travellers, bent on catching trains,

step over or skirt round them all

and hardly see them there.

© Nicky Wheeliker 2014

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