Monday, 15 September 2014



The city is busy, people are busy,
Desire has one dimensional spirit
Just finish the work, and return home.
There is no miracle, only routine work.
Lodging only first priority for staying night,
Food is bound to be taken in roadside hotels
Or cooking sometimes available that roommates
Make the arrangement, own performance.

The account what they do in working days,
They go out in the morning for work-place
How deep they feel in their life of speedy schedules
Bosses, workers, roads, busses, trains, vehicles
Run run run, sounds of a groaning city,
Packed busses, sweating, songs in the mobile phones,
Engagements - all run on the day time
They return in the evening, just in the room,
Beds, side by side, cots, just throwing away sweat
Soaked garments, a little rest, then moving
For taking night meal, either cooked or
Purchased from hotels, then gossips with
Fellow roommates, or with wife or children
Tucking mobile phones into the ear, all time.  


Enough time spent on talking
Sometimes playing with grandson,                                                                               
Sometimes with wife’s emblazonment,
Within her talking habits while taking
Diabetic pills, she expresses she married
A demon, instead of human being,
She is living in his demonic plethora,
Enough has been done within joy of love.

Sweet passage passed over time
Fairness is just one year’s excitement,
Everything is out of reach, yet living together
Everybody is adult and argues with stripping pomp,
Setting of hearts another chapter
As if somebody takes away spilled water
Over orbit of the earth, now living with
Residuals of word, love, paying something hope.

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