Under the arch will be I
And poor Divakar.

Here I came when hunger fled me
And sleep.
In the dream months,
And poor Divakar came with me.

Poor Divakar is this luckless boy.
Each time he leaves home, it pours. Each time he returns, there is a storm.
Every three miles, his motorbike chokes.

Poor Divakar.
Hangs out his tongue when he walks.
Leans on walls and pillars,
Sleeps in the summer sun.

Poor Divakar eats bird-food and has chronic constipation. And when he drinks he vomits and is never quite able to get drunk.

When poor Divakar was in his prime,
He fancied a quiet girl.

Now he says…I don't know…man…the events… are so unclear.
And he still can't figure out how he lost her.

Poor Divakar has heard me talk, and he says he'd like a word with you.

Please come Krsna, Peacock plume and all - and do not forget the flute.

When it rains over the city stretches
You could sit under the old fort’s arch
You could sit leaning
                       against the wall with
                                                   ease
You could sit there between the
                                   two of us
And rest a hand on his knees.
When it rains over the city stretches
A seat of togetherness is a joy
And maybe poor Divakar would forget