The chaos of people has
rested
In the silence of the night;
only
The screeching owl gives a
call…
Even the siren hangs by the
side of the wooden frame.
People, lying here and there
in
The colourful bed sheets
That spread around few
corners of the room
That shelters them
temporarily!
Silence does not echo extending
any notes;
As the signals too have been
shut down!
Only a small yellow lamp
beams through
The night into those
distance uncovered paths…
The man with the toilet
broom rests his head
Over a pillow after the toil
– the broom still
Held under his grip, tight –
also – relaxed!
His day ends with a piece of
bread and tea,
And wakes with fresh falling
stream of water
From the nearby water tank
that overflows
At the break of dawn… the
broom hangs by the shoulder now…
A child lay by his mother,
as his sister comforts close by,
Their father holds on to the
chained trunk, moving his hand to and fro,
While the mother covers her
face from the flies that sing around!
Noises are at halt, only the
puppy at crossroads cries,
As many from the nearby slum
join the chorus!
Some lanterns and light
bulbs gleam through the dark,
Flashing flickers of golden
sparkle across.
A slight breeze spreads the
beam to the outer space;
As night hosts multitude of shadows!
The striking clock paces and
strikes
With each passing hour as
movements
Begin to rise, fade, relapses
and gain momentum!
The journey begins once more
swiftly
Into the day, the noon, and
the dusk!
Splashes of water flows
across the ‘waiting room’;
Cleansed for new arrivals…!
