incognito

when the night was all over the city...the fog settling stealthily on the oblivious creatures....we walked out into the darkness to look for tell-tale signs of nocturnal ambiguities....we walked for miles before we reached a crossing...deserted in the middle of the night...lights blnking red-orange-green-red-orange-green...a little boy covered only in a pair of ragged shorts and a jute sack trying to fight the chill...fast asleep...lost in his own version of utopia...perhaps a fullmeal twice a day and a set of clothes to wear...his head rested on a block of discarded concrete...leftover from the flyover constructed at public cost couple of months back...his feet bare...cracked like a charred log...time stood still for us for a while...imagining the plight of our existence...when this angel was not troubled a bit...not guilts...no feeling of sin...just a few drops of hope that the morning would shine a few more pennies in his little hands...he was like the saint that raised his hands an

if the world ever gets to know the darkness of the minds that lurk inconsequentially in the alleys of the underworld....we would find an evening to lounge in the marine draive without fear.....time to recapitulate all the sounds of blasts..... hollering cries from the archangels of the city...yet no hand of care coming forward....

morning comes and we find the entire world has changed to some megalomaniac innuendo....cacophony ensues in every corner and the city roars....devouring every single moment of peace from within...the peace so carefully acquired thru a good night's sleep....and it all begins......the rush........

suffering infidelitos in the garb of lifesize halfwits... no one really know where they come from and where they disappear...just a ligering stink that's left behind to remind you they exist.....time out of the rush hour we wonder and sigh... WHY?

timeout of the fantastic memories... in the ghettoes of gurtabelos...the football days..the bloody fights..and most of all the flowers and the adolescent love story....time out of all that...next morning the whistle will blow and the iron rails will roll for a million miles...days away from home