The Street Sedan Named, Life

On certain calm mornings, as far as
The shades of the retreating night
Would allow, amidst
A low-lit mistiness like sweat on leaves,
One spots the yellow sedan
Breaking into a halt;
A skein of dust and smoke
At the blush of dawn.

Some say he’s a monk, while
Others call him a woman-eater.
No one gets out of the sedan,
No one ventures near it.
Screams break out in houses
With phones ringing and
Messages beeping, tearing from end
To end the dull anti-noise!

“Don’t stand in the balcony, and
Keep the windows closed, we’ll go
Get some saccharine,” the usual
Panicked husbands say to the wives.
The husbands disappear, the sedan remains.
Staring and staring at the sedan, silly
Female shapes begin to breathe again.
Finally they sense an alternative!

Somewhere a door creaks open and
Shuts itself and a pair of brown bandy legs
Hurry towards the sedan. Cacophony of a
Silent “Yes” breaks into numerous female hearts,
For not all souls bargain the best! Some return
To their saccharine-stained beds while
Others wait for that blood-smeared antidote;
The street sedan named, “Life”.


Now Playing:: Fanaa......................Yuva