What to tell of ,the magic of alcohol
Or is it the debacle of society
Of what do I cry, along shall I fall,
In the madness, do I feel pity ?.
Rushed the bus, tickets flying around
Not a gap to breathe, too loud yet quiet.
Yet there rose an unseen voice, booming sound
"Roads are bad, he cheated us, right?"
"Idiots, you listen to all", he says
"He cheats you and yet you elect him"
Scoffing at the rulers, others gaze
Some guffaw, some gape, some adore him.
"She cheated me!", then the colourful tirade
Women frown, children deaf and more blush.
A bellow of grief and the voice did fade
The bus swerved along, still in a rush.
As his stop came, the priest stood
All those who laughed, in shock!
All sober, lending a hand good
Alighting, time froze on a clock!
What to tell of the mystique of spirit
Was it pity, guilt, surprise or doubt?
What state of human plight had fit,
The silence that the crowded bus, now spout?
Pic Courtesy : The Hindu Archives (www.thehindu.com)