Two Poems by Umma Habiba
From Bangladesh, a poster bleeds red ink; hills devour flesh. Ropes tremble.…
Read more →Bombay breathes: discarded produce, stacked bhagonas, and hanging mangoes. Hidden daaru, artisanal flour beside old mills; a city's hunger, briefly, repeatedly, filled.
Visual Narrative · Usawa Literary Review
‘The Appetite of a City’ is a documentation of youthful days spent in Bombay (Mumbai), walking and noticing the neighbourhoods of the suburban part of the city. In this so-called “fast-paced” energy, there are moments of stillness, an almost eerie stillness captured through the lens of my camera. We are always running, chasing the next thing, almost never satiated because the world has so much more to offer. The appetite of the city is also beyond satiation — it is all consuming but never enough.
The residue of a vegetable stall even before they begin the day of selling. These parts of produce cannot even be given away for anyone to consume. They lie there, in the colourless crate full of the unusable bounty.


Inside the kitchen of a tiny Bandra apartment. The stove is stacked with steel bhagonas of karela, dal and rice — one on top of the other, the only thing separating them is a steel plate. The shelf is designed to fit in everything the kitchen could hold.
Loosely tied from the weak make-shift ceiling of a stall: the cartons of alphonso mangoes hang like pieces of decoration. The city is almost proud to show it off — the king of fruit has made the summer more welcoming and we cannot have enough of it.


A cuppa or two? The always hungry wants to be satiated in 2 mins over and over again.
Bombay and daaru. Wrapped in a brown paper bag — hidden but not so much.


Two worlds, two universes — a packed artisanal paper bag of emmer wheat flour + less GI + organic and a dilapidated blue-door atta chakki. Choose what satisfies you.
The future of quick appetite and quicker satisfaction.
