As a passenger, I occasionally crossed this bridge
In public bus, with curiosity and fondness in heart,
It comes into my mind to walk down this bridge
With fun, as boyish fun, to view the city
On the river with calm mind, to breath in Kolkata air,
The large space would be highly pleasant resolved
Sense of life, that busy and clumsy city gets some
Freshness inside, and monotone syndrome gets
Relief from relentless running for shirt-button cage
And rubbing hands upon routine workloads,
The way we always quest for living, run on road,
I am not so far as, of my staying, from the bridge.
Hoogly’s bridge has no trick over its passengers
And cannot ask for blood, except eerie riders or
Bus drivers get their return, accidents are fateful
Prey, on every occasion, the bridge is silent.
I guess what fate and rough worldly sin it has
Observed and would witness with moving events
Upon it, of course, of happenings in Kolkata,
One day while passing on it, I remember,
I was accompanied with one nearest relative.
He had to move for dialysis of diabetic kidney failure
He only said, “How is the bridge looking in its vastness?”
He couldn’t seat on bed in the moving ambulance,
So weak he was, while he was taking 84th
Dialysis, it was his quest and jest on the earth.
I made a sincere reply, it seemed my words
Not satisfying him and he heaved a deep sigh.
I looked at the crowded buses and vehicles
And the sun just takes a peep from the cloud,
The virtue and the venture make satire of existence.