My City
A middle-aged woman haggled over second hand CD’s outside the station. She was buying love-songs.
A pair of newly-weds quarreled over Pepsi v/s 7 UP.
She was alone in the bus in the midst of fifty-nine men. She did not blink at all.
A young boy selling balloons stood outside a shop catching the water dripping from an AC overhead in his little palm. Maybe he was feeling terribly hot. Perhaps he was thirsty.
She stood clutching the kurta in the middle of darkened alley. Head-to-heart. The honking rickshaw broke them apart.
She stood behind her halogen-veil,
Exquisitely dressed for them.
They passed her by,
Without a glance,
So, she danced instead.
A pair of newly-weds quarreled over Pepsi v/s 7 UP.
She was alone in the bus in the midst of fifty-nine men. She did not blink at all.
A young boy selling balloons stood outside a shop catching the water dripping from an AC overhead in his little palm. Maybe he was feeling terribly hot. Perhaps he was thirsty.
She stood clutching the kurta in the middle of darkened alley. Head-to-heart. The honking rickshaw broke them apart.
She stood behind her halogen-veil,
Exquisitely dressed for them.
They passed her by,
Without a glance,
So, she danced instead.
Acknowledgement: Picture courtesy Bedatri Datta Chowdhury
Comments
and i was just kidding about the acknowledgment part...
proud to have my pic adorning such a beautiful piece of writing....