
The air prints of dragonflies
broke the visual silence of the sky.
Stones in their Shanti mood
were resting on the Chernobyl breath of soil.
Red-headed vulture was scanning the barcode of death
and I saw life soon to be lost to luck under a truck.
It seems god doesn’t play dice but Ludo.
Buddhist cat was meowing something holy and lowly
but the ant bands in their circus rhythm
were digging up old secrets of earth.
Lovers in the end of the world desperation and caution
in their apocalyptic chats gave a look
and shooed me away like a leprosy patient of Calcutta.
Hell is you not being wanted when you are hungry for company, at least from a distance.
the footpaths are colonized by the street vendors
to get their share of Indian dream.
but all dreams are spun by the corporate spiders
to kill the prey when they are busy sipping chai.
there are no roads but only gaps to slip by
and merge into the wilderness of urban madness.









