Poem
Letter to a Demolished Cinema
One of the unsent letters referenced in a recent Bombay-set novel, published here on its own.
Dear Regal-that-was,
they built a bank where your balcony seats used to be,
and the queue for the ATM is shorter
than the queue for your Sunday matinee ever was.
I am not writing to complain. Banks are useful.
I am writing because someone should tell you
the exact shape of your absence —
a rectangle, glass-fronted, well-lit, forgettable.
I will not post this. Where would I post it to?
You don't have an address anymore.
You are an address now, only,
and I am the last one still writing to it.
Note: The full novel contains eleven such letters; this is the shortest and, the author says, the truest.
More from Poetry
- Inventory of a Locked Room — Ila Bhaduri
- The Driver Remembers Differently — Aakash Dev Sharma
- Fourth Floor, No Lift — Priyanka Oberoi