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.
