Enroute from Bangalore | Priyanka Bhandarkar

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

I saw a Borewell.

Then again the sun provided an immediate disguise to the copper,aluminium and plastic utensils.

A brown glaze surrounded the hours of dawn.The dew requiring no colors.The water was being flushed,the people rather living it.

A probability aspect of cleaning,washing and squatting.

The women and children standing the strength of time.Just parted the involuntary motion of those vulnerables.Finger tips holding each other.one stand.two standing.full waiting.

A packet of chips in my hand,I watched opening the window of my car.

Laughing at these stars and making fun.

These are but interpersonal and curious elements.

And I awarded a medal to myself for these observations.

The Pride of the country are the people.In this third world nation filled with intellectuals and runts.

And I count the number of buildings with much satisfaction.

Just hotels,shops and public toilets down the road.

And the service road ended.Anyways I was proud of the bridge,traffic signals and flyovers.

The roads were crowded with vehicles.The people were in jeopardy.I like on the crossroads of destiny was amazed watching the pedestrians.

Toys,flowers and raw mangoes were being sold.

The sweat,the toil and tears.

Sellers,Middle class or whores?

Or was it remorse?resentment?

Bicycles,scooters,cars and trucks…..