Minus Evening The dream, Open blue skies embracing horizons, Thousands of un-stringed balloons drifting high, Flocks

of birds etching the skies Flying home in formations, Ah! My heart aches to hear the bulbul sing. The reality, Crawling forward in the smog From somewhere to nowhere In endless traffic jams, Frustrated faces, Sagging hearts, Wearied feet! Struggling to shut out the blaring horns, The cacophony of hawkers & eunuchs Peddling wares, seeking alms On red light signals The light turns green! The skies just a darker grey from the day, No evening embers, As if the sun Just got snuffed into a dusty ashtray

Shyam 29 November 2011