Classic Poem

Invisible termite of the mind
Spreads all over the computer screen in front of you
The palms turn into the white mice
And disappear into the holes
In the bored skull of the God

The eyes dry like leaves, ablaze
On the flat screen
Of the liquid crystal sky
An unknown cursor
Waits for impotent letters to emerge

Green and yellow LPG attached auto-rickshaws
108 numbered ambulances
Cars without wheels
Two wheelers without drivers
The loitering Ashoka trees whistling
With their hands in the pockets
Run through my veins
This multicoloured world has liquefied
And it flows from god-knows-where places

The ghosts of traffic policemen
Who have left their eyes at home
Doing their rounds in dark glasses
Pretend to be scarecrows
Drivelling the tobacco
Of female police officers

Sunlight, that old drudge,
Fed up with people
Fatigued from donkeywork
Sits in the shade
Wiping its sweat
Bearing the weight
Of this city on its back
Hurtling profanities at the road

This world gets baked
In the microwave oven
It melts but look
On the North Pole
You can see
The monstrous foreplay
Of Bhima and Hidimba

And the whole city submerges
In their foul-smelling sweat