like pigeons on trees

with water from one of the large
buckets that the little girl brought

she washes utensils scrubbing them
in the open in the vacant plot

that has her ramshackle one room house
with the weighed down asbestos sheets

where they’re allowed to stay as a safeguard
against encroachment maybe

they’ve planted a few bananas and
fronds from five coconut trees dry

on the ground where amongst overgrown weeds
plastic bags, some burnt some not, lie 

the grass is crisscrossed by three
paths that run from the wall to the road

they run in muddy little rivulets pale
brown soon as it begins to pour

the kids play beside large logs
for firewood ducking and dodging they run

amongst the clothes drying on ropes
between the coconut trees hung

they’ve drawn a paandi next to the kolam 
that she draws each morning on the ground

it’s like any other village home, but in the heart
of the city. transplanted, with highrises all around