City Of Gaslights

Based on my experiences in India

Vehicles speed down the highway, as stray cats
and dogs are sprawled in the streets, gasping for
breath in the shimmering heat, entrapped by
crimson-stained canopy trees.

Hyderabad is polluted from the some twelve
million souls: streets full of potholes due to
the national need for speed and the country’s
addiction to breed – the hardships of the

poor are abundant, yet humanitarian
efforts are redundant, to no avail as many
spill onto the railway tracks, widening the
cracks of famine and squalor: it’s a shame,

because India is a beautiful place, but besotted
with its caste system. Market Day: customers
boisterously barter, but on tourists, they set
a course to charter. Look at those

pockets rustling: traders’ eyes wide like a cavern’s
mouth – busy, dry and loud, streets with infinite
crowds of moneymaking hyenas cackling at me for
a glimpse of Gandhi’s face: spawns of capitalism.

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Tré Griffiths


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