`
Horns hoot, bells scream
As they get in each other’s way
None willing to pause for the other.
Someone barks at a mike,
Some hear, none believe,
They’ve heard that lie before.
At the pan shop, a radio howls,
A wavering signal sings of love,
Love still exists, they say.
Utensils clatter as the twelve-year-old
Makes tea, the ten-year-old serves.
A goat tied at the post bleats,
As the busy butcher hacks and chops its sibling –
A lazy queue patiently waits;
Men talk, women gossip, children chatter.
At the corner, an urchin wails…
Not afar,
We trudge… along the sidewalk,
Pain drops trickle down
Along those wrinkle grooves.
No words are said, not a single sound is heard.
These silent words are just too loud.
`
Horns hoot, bells scream
As they get in each other’s way
None willing to pause for the other.
Someone barks at a mike,
Some hear, none believe,
They’ve heard that lie before.
At the pan shop, a radio howls,
A wavering signal sings of love,
Love still exists, they say.
Utensils clatter as the twelve-year-old
Makes tea, the ten-year-old serves.
A goat tied at the post bleats,
As the busy butcher hacks and chops its sibling –
A lazy queue patiently waits;
Men talk, women gossip, children chatter.
At the corner, an urchin wails…
Not afar,
We trudge… along the sidewalk,
Pain drops trickle down
Along those wrinkle grooves.
No words are said, not a single sound is heard.
These silent words are just too loud.
`
Chandannagar, WB,
October, 2005
