Collective Routine

 

Leave your house at 8 AM for work.

Shield yourself from exhaust smoke.

Watch a bicycle go by;

A working antique of the 21st century-

Once a mode of transport,

Now an entertainment commodity.

Sounds of people surround you at the bus stop:

A lady cries about her 'phooti kismet' to her friend.

A boy tries to convince his father to cash into the latest trend.

A beggar sings "bhagwaan ke naam pe dede" ruining his own chances.

A girl begs for help against a pervert; With quiet, furtive glances.

A family of nine, boards the bus,

Yelling "bacche hai saath mein, thoda toh rehem karo"

While shoving little ones and hissing "chalo beta, aage chalo"

You try to tune the whole thing out.

Earphones jammed in.

Eyes focused on phone screen.

Mind unwilling to talk,

Sore feet from last night's party refusing to walk.

The grumpy old conductor goes on persistently,

"Chala chala, thambu naka, pudhe chala"

While outside, by the traffic light,

chhakke, bacche, aurate, try to catch your attention,

Clapping, jumping, yelling,

Waving lemons and mirchis tied on string,

As you hurriedly look the other way trying to deny their existence.

"isiliye mai kabhi rickshaw se nahi jaati"

And as the bus passes by this miniature circus,

Nearing your stop,

You perform your own acrobatic sequence-

"Excuse me - utarna hai - excuse me - jagah dena - hatiye jara - haath hataiye, utarna hai"

Finally off the bus, you straighten your jacket,

Pat your hair down,

Look wistfully at the shrinking bus.

- Those last minutes of pre-work procrastination -

Then prepare for your own personal daily routine.