7 prayers for my 7 Island City

I wish you peace upon Malabar Hill,
in the hot summer, when the wind is still, And you remember you are blessed
that God has paid your aircon bill,

I pray for you on Chowpatty beach,
That you can see your blessings, outnumber the sand beneath your feet,

When I see you sleep on the footpath, It hurts my heart,
with your arm as your pillow,
I pray that you feel God's love,

And it was for you He made the beautiful rainbow,

In traffic jams and crowded trains,
Hot sun and pouring rain,
You walk, you run, you fight, you sleep, Always tired, gone too far, way too deep,

When will it turn, you ask, as life chugs on, Return at dusk, leave again at dawn,
It can't be just one big yawn,

You sell your time, you sell yourself, To buy that dream high upon a shelf, To get ahead and stay ahead,
You work like crazy to excel,

The sparkle and rhythm of Mumbai, Has cast upon you a magical spell,

From Cuffe Parade, Colaba, n Fort,
Churchgate, Bandra and beyond,
To the lawyer, the policeman, the shopkeeper, the tailor, the doctor, the godman and the vagabond,
I pray seven wishes,
for my seven Islands and all who live in it,

I pray for your peace,
I pray that you truly see,
I pray that together, we plant several trees, Trees that give shelter from rain

and from pain,
Whose boughs hug with love
and leaves start a whispering campaign,

I pray that you give,
and that you truly forgive, I pray thru your struggles, you excitedly live,

I pray that you find this Friend of mine, The One who turned water into fine wine, He turned my messes into a message,
I pray you test Him,
with your wonderful unique wreckage,

This Engineer is free, no bill to pay, His unconditional love He gives away, The Potters Hand reshapes
the shattered pot made whole again, with same broken clay,
No wealth, no deeds,
no nothing can repay,

While stony statues will silently tell, They cannot hear your temple bell, Your works are good but to no avail, Heaven's Grace is not for sale.

Urvaksh Hovyoy