This thing passing by called land it is funny,
we blame its emptiness for emptiness in our own tummy,
we forget we live, eat and do everything on it,
give it away to our kids, even kill for it,
then ironically they say, Law of the land …isn’t it?
We want water to fill it,
take help of greed, goodness, and everything to keep it.
Lay the road on which I drive,
trees they were and now it is a straight black desert passing by.
Also in between man’s intervention,
canals, water bodies, results of a nation,
bridges anew for faster to use,
for the herders became a muse,
in India you can always stop by,
to ask the herder your way and all his sheep a small hi,
exchange bidis and laughs make it light,
ask who are you and am I going the way right,
scratches his head he says,
don’t know sahib-ji really these new roads confuse,
me too I say, on the highways.
Prolly because
Time is to me. Space it’s unto you.
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