This poem is really a cop-out, but a wonderful one. I originally thought up the poem in an auto ride from BTM back to Koramangala, that much is true, but it was about how winter auto rides are different in Bangalore from Delhi – and how I was different in them. I never came around to writing that poem, but I wrote about the experience of it here. 


I was sitting in an auto,

going back to Koramangala,

from a friend’s place in BTM.


And the city was wet,

the way it is,

only in Bangalore,

all of it, but barely.


And city lights were reflecting,

on the roads,

just like they do,

only in Bangalore.


And I was thinking about,

two poems,

I had thought up,

but still

had to write.


But in that auto

on that winter night,

a poem was writing itself

into being.