Out Of Reach


Irritable drivers, blaring horns
revving engines, impatient honks
frustration and tension
at being delayed
restless and tired
tempers are frayed
over heated vehicles
screeching brakes
everyone trying to hurry
doing whatever it takes
cursing and swearing
through the fumes and heat
in the commotion and chaos
of the jam-packed street


CRASH
THUDSCREEEEECHH

Onlookers crowd around
trying to get a peep
Besides his fallen cycle,
lies a man in a heap.
The car has zigzagged
and driven out of sight
without giving a thought
for the victim's plight

"Is he dead?"
"Get some water"
"Is there a doctor here?"
"This is slaughter"

- murmurs from the crowd

"The criminal should be punished"
"..sued", ".. and flogged"
"He was driving at breakneck speed,
the cold blooded, callous dog"

A policeman elbows his way in
to look at the fallen man

"What happened?"
"Someone hit him & ran"

A babble of voices
His notebook comes out

"One at a time"
over them he shouts.

"Let me write... time ... place ...
who got a good look?"

Details emerge from the crowd
and fills the page of the book

"The car was a new BMW"
Hesitates.. the writing resumes...

"I will nail that rich ***
I'll make him pay" - he fumes

"Who does he think he is?
He will rot in jail for life

Does he think we are less important
than his family, friends and wife?"

"What colour was the car?
Who noted it's number?"
"It was the revenue minister's
I've seen it before and remember"

the pen pauses ...
"Who was driving?"

"it was a young man wearing goggles"
"he was talking on the phone"

the writing stops ...
"Did you see properly?"

"Yes, must be some relative .."
.. the pen is closed ...

".. could be the minister's nephew"
..and back in his pocket

"... or his son"
the book has disappeared from sight.

"Why are you all crowding around
Don't you have anything better to do?
The tamasha* is over, get going
before I begin to shoot "

"Get up you thug"
a nudge, then a kick
"Falling before cars,

trying to get rich quick?"

"What happened?"
in a daze, he totters a bit
did he do anything wrong?
.. or ... did he get hit?

Someone picks up his cycle,
another straightens the bar
The crowd scatters, to resume
their journeys near & far

He gets on his bike
and wobbles along,
if he keeps on pedaling
he'll be home before long -
Back into the traffic
through the dust and heat
and the din and chaos
of the jam packed street
- with a drop of blood 
trickling from his ear,
he continues unsteadily
in confusion and fear

The car is probably parked
outside a disco, bar or beach
And a celebration is on for being
above and beyond reach

~ Shanta ~

 

* Entertainment 

 

More Poems By Shanta

Kavitanjali

 

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