Everything will stay the same

When I leave

The sun will beat down just as hard
With a smell of sweat and wet mud and black pepper,
Floating in the air
Not a second of silence
Between bargaining aunties and chirping birds and vehicles honking
Some uncles enjoying a siesta inside their auto-rickshaws
And others a little chai-sutta
With a tiny TV giving updates on the match
People will still skip red lights
But pick up pakoras for their kids before heading back home
And sleep on the roof amid a light breeze and religious calls and
Dream a bright future for their kids in a land away from their own
Without a pause

When I return