From overheated apartments walk through Ramadan dusk
After the rush, traffic slows to a trickle
Stragglers rushing to reach home.
Waiting for Magrib’s magic moment in every parking basement
Behind windows, at corners where rickshaw wallahs wait
At every building site, water bottles with caps unscrewed
Eyes watch hands mix puffed-rice, chickpeas, chilies
The sweet savory smell of Iftar dates, the ache of thirst.
Minutes tick, sun sinks, golden light in silent sky
Peace steels along the ever-crowded paths and parks.
Quiet stretches thirsty for that moment when longing
Calls across the city from a thousand minarets.
Fast is broken, the sweet first sip of water
Silence sighs relief.