India is a nation of aromatic cuisines,
embroidered fabric,
diverse greenery and wildlife,
and most importantly- the everlasting traffic
It's next to impossible to successfully navigate...
through the roads of the capital of my state
When I first moved in, I used to wonder- will I reach home
before dawn?
Given the haphazard way I continually roam,
the stars would have come and gone
On a weekday, the traffic kicks in some time after five,
it instantly wakes me up- nothing makes me feel more alive
My mind sprints, formulating conjectures
and many a wild guess-
"How do people steer themselves from this
full blown, wholesome mess?
With people and animals briskly walking
up and down the street?
And that distracting resonant sound
of the constant shuffling of feet."
Flashing motorcycles dart past, proud to honk and blare,
as the sun beats down upon your neck,
as dust clouds rise up in the air
The city is enveloped by a veil of smoke,
the air reflects the pallor of a dark cloak
The paths are laden with loquacious, school girls and boys
who are somehow able to effectively communicate
amid all the rush and noise
There's that perpetual, hollow sound of car after car's
wheels grinding and rotating
against the black mass of tar
Dry leaves crunch, dogs bark
their sounds echoing from light till dark
And the roads- brimming with ridges and grooves
rendering a steady flow of traffic
nearly impossible to smoothly move
I am presently hearing the reverberation
of traffic as I rhyme and write,
while hearing the building of residential homes
at the many construction sites-
a persistent humming and drilling
that meets its end only at late night
But from the ninth floor of my apartment-
it forms a mind blowing, fascinating sight
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