Paritosh
Picking my nose, scratching my head,
With a batted face, biting my nails,
I shut down my brain,
Day’s office is over again.
I pass by a public lavatory,
Without grimacing my face.
Patched by hawkers,
Nagged by assorted beggars,
The pavements are littered,
Nothing exclusive.
Standing at the bus stop
Three pass.
Finally the numbers match.
I become 81st
In “ to seat 65’s”
Omnibus.
Stamped by a metal heel,
Knocked by a purse,
Cornered by a virile elbow,
My mammoth body least deserved.
The bus
From filled to loaded
To packed becomes;
A young boy and a beautiful girl
Get on to the bus.
Chivalrous he, accommodates her cozy,
Armoring her to a safe corner,
Protecting her from the libidos
Of this whimsical society, ultra busy.