The Rigidity

The rigidity-
The parallel lines, that run along,
Being chased by the glazing heat
And oblique rays of the unforgiving sun.

I want to stay still,
So that this solitude feels alone,
In the midst of a throng,
Wave upon wave,
With black umbrellas and
Colourful innocuous fabric.

I want to feel happy,
Because there is no reason to feel sad-
I may never belong in the sedimented hopes
Of a second class compartment,
But I can still stand and feel
The hope and despondence,
Resonating through pirated cell phones,
Cloth bags, pink cotton shirts and flip flops.

I want to know,
Then maybe I won't be afraid-
The reason for the closed doors,
Black veils and buttons on shirts,
That sickening stench and the dry
Skies, all waiting for some repose.

These two parallel lines,
That carry away all that can be,
That usher into the city,
The best of the seeds,
Where they are fed to become weeds.

The compartments rattle away,
Feeding on the dreams of another yesterday.
Rupee coins and thoughtless gazes,
Judgmental by instinct, yet really afraid-
No one dares to give change.

The Light Shines The Brightest