The Gariahat crossing...

Today,at length of four summers,abruptly
I stand,face-off,the Gariahat crossing...







In the shadow of the flyover
Rests a crowd of alloy wheels.

A lit cigarette,oblique,between the lips
I walked the footpath,my very own.
The unfamiliar stalls,off the roadside
Adding to the unnecessary noise of the city.

A tram moves on,at a distance
Carrying a morsel of the afternoon activity.

The familiar streets lack the simplicity
The Gariahat crossing,a stranger to me...








On the edge of the footpath,lived
A madman,who weaved his own stories.
I couldn't find him
Not an address,he had left.

The emptiness beside my school
Lost in a mall's plastic busyness.

Cheap stalls flock the roads,as if,wild grass
Breaching lengths of the narrowing footpath.

Someday,somehow,it has been recast
The Gariahat crossing,a complete stranger to me...








Memories,a lot of them,winks by
The days of fresh adolescence.

Many a story,cloudy,overcast.

The first flavour of freedom
In between two naive fingers
The half life of a cigarette.

I dug in,every street,but
Couldn't find a story,I knew.

A minute's Gariahat,has changed,in a minute
The Gariahat crossing,is but,a stranger to me.....