Dear diary, I took a sick leave yesterday
The lungs were giving a little trouble
But mostly, I was just sick of ’em all
And of living in this city-shaped rubble.
I was then on those roads so narrow
And these paths dizzyingly round
But it’s only the paths here, not lives
Or words where complication is found.
The directions aren’t accurate, you see
Google maps haven’t replaced old men here
Men who wear so many layers of clothes
Yet are somehow able to leave their souls bare.
There’s instant communication here as well
With the neighbours living next door
There are the phones that catch lesser signals
And there are the humans who catch more.
There are water and electricity issues-
But we star-bathe, and count on the fireflies’ light
Without any Good Nights to to protect us
It somehow manages to be a better night
– Vrinda Bhatia
English, 1- B
Lady Shri Ram College