Nostalgia radio

Waist-deep in the river, offering the last light to the sun.

Evening aarti, the Chalisa, and whatever plays after.

Sarson fields, a dhol that won't quit, swag inherited not bought.

Sequin disco, loud speakers, and songs your landlord also knows.

First love, second-hand bicycle, one voice that never aged.

The voice you played on the rooftop while the whole colony slept.

One unread chat, city rain, and a voice that reads it out loud.

Side A of a tape bought in 1990, still holding its pitch.

One cap, one nasal high note, a thousand ringtone hits.