Evening at ten past six, as she did
Unmistakable in her red and blue stripes on white
Symbolic of a motorman's towards retire
I was a railway child, dad followed by mom
Vitthalwadi was about ten minute walk from home
I would take the overcrowded morning's 7:41
Alight at Kalyan to walk to my morning school
In the evening when I would be back home
Granny would serve tea, as i sat in my room
The queen would pass by home, and remind
There was another hour of waiting for mom
She would bring me balushahis, freshly made
From the railway canteen, of Victoria Terminus beside her office
She would rush home to me, just as eager
As I would wait to see her tired face
The balushahis I eat now, they seem too bland
They aren't bought from my mother's purse or hand
The Deccan Queen too has changed her colours
And the Ghee and sugar of balushahis feel tasteless now
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