i had been passing through this part for five years at a stretch and inspite of the noise and the stench..to my surprise this morning i realised how much i had fallen in love with it...after all this spot..alongwith all the other spots in my hour long journey from home to college had attained so special a significance for me and my ruminations)
broken windows
plywood sheets on merry three wheelers
flies and beggars,
lies
lovers meeting, families departing ;
a harrowed and sweaty tourist lost in the chaos,
a confused new comer gazing at signboards ;
business laces the air, and pavements.
sweetmeats in doubles-- split shops between split families;
honks and shouts, swears and smiles jostle for space,
a man blissfully sleeps in the shadow of the temple
where devotees throng... but the song of the gong
is drowned in the song of the nearby shops;
songs.... of little girls being defamed.
songs.... of little girls being defamed.
some yards, and a creek ahead--
a fair skinned sadhu narrates stories of distant lands--while
smeared in the white of the math,
his desi companions sing 'praise be the lord!'
Outside flows a clogged stream of filth
on whose banks sits a daily haat--
presenting life in all its shades--bright ,dark and wane
As an old lady
solitary, half-hidden amidst weeds, in an unkempt garden
perched atop a stone pedestal--
watches on--stone faced
the passage of time,
the antics of life flitting its fickle wings...
the antics of life flitting its fickle wings...