They,
pavement dwellers,
always happy, satisfied lot.
Roofs of tarpaulin
sheets
torn, grimy
pieces of sarees
serving as walls,
pavement dwellers
always happy, satisfied lot.
Lashing rains and
thunderstorms heralding
the arrival of monsoons
shaking their ‘well-built-
apartments’
like earthquakes
striking and devastating vast areas
or
the blazing sun
as if coming down
and hitting hard
pointing to the arrival
of summer
they remian unshakable
immune to the vagaries of
climate.
With the arrival of
morning
each goes somewhere
and attends to call of nature
disperse they into various
directions,
come back in the
evenings ,
as the veil of black
gains thicker and thicker
with no time left
for relaxation
begin the routine chores
chappattis, cooked rice, curries,
all prepared
while children with running
noses, torn knickers, little ones
in birthday suits
watching, and awaiting
for the food to get ready
impatient with empty stomachs
all looking nasty, ugly
with ruffled hairs
in the light of
candles or kerosene lamps
and as nights hardens
kerosene lamps and candle lights
get snuffed out .
All go to sleep
some engage in procreation.
Whether
voyeuristic eyes
watch them or not
no matter, who cares?
and the population
keep on growing
in between all
these sound and fury
signifying nothing.
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