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It's 9 in the morning

It's 9 in the morning
On yet another doubtful day
Not even sure
Completely uncertain
But with a subtle belief
That the community siren will blow its top
To tell people that
it's 9 in the morning
As always.

Every day of my life
Well 2 decades back now
I grew up from a boy to a man
Losing my youth on the way
The sleepy and laid-back city
Suddenly waking up to the siren
It was of no emergency
But of 9 in the morning.

With the siren
I would rush to the balcony
From where the slice of the sky was not so bad
My friend's uncle would look up in the sky
As a daily routine
For a plane flying south to Madras
Yes of course he was a travel agent
The doctor would walk out of his house
With the most depressing look ever
To take his car out for work
My search would be for the local community cleaner
For he would get me my Mary Jane
For with the siren blow
I knew its 9 in the morning.

In years that passed by
I would hate if the old man would leave
After the siren would blow
This was the time
When I would rush out to the balcony
With a contraceptive in my pocket
For my newfound girlfriends to come
Usually in a hand-pulled rickshaw
My libido would rush
After a joint in the terrace
For some wild sex
For the siren had blown
And it's 9 in the morning.

I visited the lane after a decade
To find no siren blow
At 9 in the morning
The doctor I heard is dead
And so is the travel agent
And a long time my old man
The community cleaner's son has taken over
The balcony looked lonely
Decadence with time
So much has changed
It's 9 in the morning
Yet no siren
As if it was sucked out of my mother's stomach
The way her gall bladder was taken out
Last week at 9 in the morning
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