Reminiscence of life

The trumpeter in his full voice
Demanding for a change.
“This city should grow-up.”
According to the sources
No more my city is a city now
It is a metro!

Sleek women- dressed half
Walk to flash lights
“Bring them on front page,” cries
The editor. “They sell you the
Main paper,” he adds.
On the same day a women is raped
Another lady was awarded the best...
“Crush them in central pages,” he said.
But off course those women were dressed full
And were not so ugly! There is no space for
The ragged sari village girl. Where would he
Sell her picture.

It is just a column, for the philosophy
And one whole supplement for sex in
The city!

Bapu Gandhi had said
Make my countries village into
Delhi. But in our ‘times’ we brought
Bombay’s fashion week to
Village’s galli.
No matter you have good food or
Not, they advertise brands to wear.
Leave out Cities now
They want Towns to be “New York,
Singapore and Tokyo!”
And the core of a village
Playground of toxic industry.

Art is now only for Artist’s sake!
Our state’s greatest singer is not a
Legend, but a drug addict
Is a GOD of Music! “No one know about
The nightingale fisher woman;
Go and ask pub goers,
He knows the ‘black boy’ who
Turned white!”

Supplement after supplements were
Dedicated on his name and her ash
Was silently thrown into
Three rivers. (Except her death
Report nothing was Observed.)

There was breaking news
Last Friday. One of the lead lady
Broke her leg and was on stretcher.
“Such a pity thing for her. But still
She came to a party. How committed she is,”
Said a page three reporter.
The political reporter who had less
Voice murmured, “Isn’t the same case
With our country- handicapped
By every part.”

My city is not yet matured.
It is still in adolescent age.
It is still learning to change its own
Before it becomes Metro
It has to learn how
To live with brothers’
And know that blood out of any
Wound would pain and take time to
It has to know How to behave
With guests.
What to hear and what not.
And above all not to complain
About the changes.

Pavan Kumar H.

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Bangalore, Karnataka, India
Has not excavated fully. There are half baked feelings, desires and ambitions. But a heart to complete and compel.

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