LCDs placed adjacent
To a busy railway track.
Squatters oblivious
Of the imminent danger.
The Black Locomotive
Is never too far,
The Inexorable inevitably
Catches up with life.

Their smartphone cameras
Working overtime,
Busy clicking pictures,
Making videos,
Of effigies burning,
Firecrackers fireballing,
Of Politicians beaming
In Kaleidoscopic light.

Of Organisers napping
Amidst thunderous cacophony,
Of local administration,
Who shall call it
An Act of God.
The Railway staff
Remain ensconced
In their Ivory towers.

Snapshots and videos
To share with friends,
And for themselves
To someday actually look
What they saw live.
Won’t watch them now
Clear this data
Make space anew.

Picked up guns
On a mad man’s whims
Took a decade
To get pacified.
Can’t keep off drugs,
Which the enemy sends,
Sore losers,
For attention, we cry.

We are so helpless,
We have no choice,
But to burn straw stubble,
For your troubles we sigh.
No one warned us,
We are retarded hobos,
Not on tracks do trains run,
Everything in Punjab Does Fly.


About author

Abhinav Pancholi, IRS, Kolkata. The author is an avid sports lover with a passion for literature.


Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author. The facts and opinions appearing in the article do not reflect the views of Pragativadi.com and Pragativadi.com does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.

Leave A Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.