Barbaric city sick-with slums,
Deprived of seasons, blessed with rains,
Its hawkers, beggars,
iron-lunged,
Processions led by frantic drums,
A million purgational lanes,
And child-like masses, many-tongued,
Whose wages are in words and crumbs.
- Nissim Ezekiel, on Bombay in his poem "Morning Walk"
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