POEM
Wearing jeans and top,
with her hair shampooed and leveled
and high-heeled sandals
like a young man
she was walking down
the footpath of the
metro watching
both sides of road
lined up with shops, banks, saloons,
hotels and crowds walking along
vehicles speeding to and fro
tooting and hooting.
If she were in a village
she would have been
the cynosure of the villagers.
But in a metro
where hundreds of both
genders walking along
clad in modern
dresses
including top and jeans
nobody could spare time
to notice her
and for that matter
many other blondes
while the unfortunate
truth pained a few
for lack of identity
a few drew happiness and pleasure for not
anyone unable to
distinguish them.
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