The Bus Ride from Thevalakkara to Kollam

rain flow

Old roads and older beatled romeos,

the nostalgia arousing fragranceof  pond’s powder

sprinkled across the bus by early bird commuters

combines with the swanky sweat  of the gulf returnee

a bus breakdown midway, the stranded are accommodated,

they reluctantly tilt on to an overfull footboard

ensconced me, so futilely arrogant at being seated

the early morn cackle and laughter of my villagers,

the sighs of delays, the fear of price rise, the incessant rains,

A driver who has to honk  to wake up curvaceous dreams,

His patronizing halts, his furtive glances, at passers by,

I seek the reluctant but learned  conductor for change,

who clanks his  bag to return slow and cribs,

until he reaches the village belle for whom he smiles,

I am relieved that he is de-stressed,

there is some hope of unrequited love,

of romance until the end of this drive.


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