Poem By: Sushmita Thakuri
A world separated by the street Street no.33 On one side I see a beggar Nested in a curb Drooping wrinkles like plaits of crumpled skirt, liver marked face Throwing out scared and scarred, coarse two fore limbs Begging for some pence On one side I see a boy Ruffled hair, few ringlets plastered to forehead, tangled into mess by city smog Dulled to pale just like his life Ragged clothes, ragged jute sack resting in his hunched back Throwing the blank stare at passersby On one side I see a female Lost her right to diction “woman” Intoxication blending to scarlet down the green lines in her forearms Forced to sell her flesh Standing at door staring at herself, At a broken glass that shows her true false image On one side I see a temple, A church, a mosque, a dome with timeworn crepe fluttering in the air In ruins, In verge of denudation On the other side I see a man Handsomely dressed, the perfectly tailored blazer Succulent, screened under scorching sun As he walks on by the swirl of his rich cologne had heads swooned in aisles On the other side I see a boy Carrying a bag, bottle at the back An easy smile up to those hazy blue eyes, grinning at the brand-new toy His shoes, silk shirt, sleek blonde hair shining like freshly minted coins Airing his voice honeyed and proud On the other side I see a woman So vividly self-aware amidst the dangling gold and amber Draped in the modest attire which promised finesse Admiring herself in the glass of her almirah As she carries her feet with that very impeccably perfect grace On the other side I see a temple, A church, a mosque, a dome with fancy crepes beautifully swaying in the breeze Glistening in the sun, glowing like silver stars under moonlit sky As the bells chime to the songs of summer joy Well, parallel lines never meet True for mathematics True for streets After all humanity caged inside is too lethargic to cross those humans made concrete lane of bricks
