Mest lästa ▸
The Scheme of Things
At the traffic signal, I crawl up
Next to my friend's Mercedes
My thirty-three year old scooter
Hardly one-fourth its length.
My friend, his business worth crores
Puts down his Blackberry on the table
Beside my five-year old Nokia,
Scratched, scarred, and shoddy.
He hugs me, his cologne- laced shirt
Wrinkles its nose
At my faded cotton -
It tries to hide the button-less hole.
He said how, one day
He had this vision of a huge Banyan-like tree
Ants marching, monkeys jumping
Birds singing