The forgotten route

By Ishan Jadhav

With yellow lights and dark lanes was the tram familiar,

Rattling and creaking it went,

It’s weight had long ceased to touch the streets,

And , in some dark corners it’s spirit was broken.

In those years it had carried people, and more,

Now ,a memory, like an axe dropped on the ocean floor,

Through Pydhonie and Malabar hill , resonated once,

The sound of its metallic shrill.

At night the tram still moves around,

It’s ghost, some say,

Drifting through hills rushing along the back bay,

Before retiring into popular memory,

And in a car-shed called “past”.

By Ishan Jadhav