Bangalore traffic!
You zig and zag,
You create a drag.
Sometimes
You flow like river
rushing downhill
revving engines sub for melting snow,
and there’s no dam
to hold you in,
not even the traffic light.
At other times,
you’re a machine
with revolting parts,
each with its own brain,
each talking,
no one listening,
in the universal language
of shrill and screech.
And every vehicle
does preach
to another.
Preach while it’s stalled behind,
Preach while it zips past,
Preach while it crawls beside another.
Bangalore traffic,
You dance
with the grace
of an elephant standing on a pinhead,
you move
with the sensitivity
of a crow swooping on a dead rat,
you advance
with the efficiency
of a sledgehammer
chiselling a statue.
You sing
like a piano
belching all its notes at once.
You talk
in monosyllables
and yet you mean so much.
Someday,
Yes someday,
I will understand
every word you say,
and even the spaces between the words,
when you pause to insert them.
I’m not nuanced enough yet
to distinguish
one honking beat from another,
still tone deaf
to appreciate the subtle differences
in the notes of your mobile symphony.
Grains of thought 