Crosswalks aren’t the only things
With stripes—
Your body bears its own
Patchwork of stains
That leap to life
At every green light.
Traffic police,
Thus, indeed, wave their right hand,
Left hand too.
Engulfed in comments-likes-shares,
Days are passing divine,
‘One week goes by, then comes another week.’1
That’s the fun of the buffet system,
You can burp as much as you can.
Amid the cacophony in this city,
I hear a silence steel.
I place my bet on the snail
While hares and tortoises
Rush past..
1. Line taken from Bhaskar Chakraborty’s poem Ke? (Who?),
translated by the poet
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