The Bus Ride

Sitting in the window seat of a crowded bus in Mumbai

Looking at the road, the cars, the taxis, the places

Spending time with myself, I took a pen and a paper

And decided to write something about that bus ride.

I could see faces, some with their bodies standing, some sitting

Looking here and there, trying to figure out something

Some talking, some singing, some thinking like me

And some wondering when will they get those filled seats.

Hundreds of shops coming by and going away

Some stay for a while, and leave when the bus moves again

Doctors, carpenters, electricians, car repairs

Looking at me, as if they have an endless tale to narrate.

The road, flooded with cars, bikes, trucks

With innumerous boards hanging in the middle of it

Carrying tons of load on its heart

Helping them to take their men to their destined destinations.

The beautiful path, that amazing breeze

The high towers, those waving waters in the seas

The sounds, the echoes, the lights, the thoughts

Were all but a part of that Bus Ride.