Poetry: Archana Bahadur Zutshi

Archana Bahadur Zutshi
Deconstruction of a connect

A hushed neighbourhood withstands all day,
A constant whirr, which deconstructs the city,
A bulge of construction resonates with growth.
The quarried hills and exploited ecosystem,
The frayed nerves and pollution
Seem to have been the cost,
Constant cash-flow, in a city is a must.

Houses are occupied, but still no faces you greet.
The mornings are upbeat:
Attuned in parks to morning walkers.
Unheard the day beats a hasty retreat,
Inside mammoth structures.
Afternoons dissipate into heavy nights.
Spaces are taken fast, time too follows the course.
Old majestic homes are empty,
Or occupied by the watchmen and workers.
No animated conversation, no wisps of steaming cups.

The morning is sore with unrestrained grind,
No matter what, there's no time!
Unobserved concert,
Blinding midnoon glare inside the showrooms;
The unplugged flow of customers,
Though some hollering midmen mark,
At short intervals, a promising customer.

I cannot survive the gossips,
Loneliness is my forte.
I don't attempt much, none to impress.
I desist from the fiesty raking of the muck,
The slinging and regaling is customary,
I ,a sucker, don't get stuck.
No appetite though,
 Rewarding be the gruel of gossip,
In its concentrated jamboree.
I don't stick around in the gambol,
I am out of the chorus.

How do I make a customary call?
In the old city when I return,
From neighbourhood people have moved on.
It is someone not of the city,
Who likes to bask in its history!
Culinary delights dote on my tastebuds.
An untempered assimilation of the cultural connect.


The stooped man scanned the playground full of bubbly youth,
Running after the ball.
Twilight encrypted another play in the mind.
The eagle sweeped on chubbycheeks,
He laid his long nailed talon,
Scratching the surface of his own nose
Rubbed his scrotch on the fold
Of the boys bum!
Chastised him why he didn't turn up for games that week.
The boy felt mugged in the street,
Went down weak in his knees!
Meekly caught in the revolting chase!

As the sun went down the boy trudged to deposit the ball,
In the gamesroom he was ensnared,
The net of football or basketball were chaster,
Despite all the falls!

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