I race the sun and spheres <br />I ignore morning prayers, <br />Sometimes breakfast, and the bread-box, <br />Just for 110b, the one and only 110b. <br />Ay, but he is the Sphere of spheres, <br />His spurt of speed, unstoppable: <br />And <br /> There <br /> He <br /> Goes <br /> <br />Without me……. <br />Beaten by the distance of one point five yards, <br />Forsaken by the Wheels of Speed, <br />I get on into the ‘other’ Bus <br />That makes the journey seem an Odyssey. <br />But I, unlike Ulysses, am left to weather <br />The hardship of a crowded bus, <br />Of pointed stilettos, and poking elbows. <br /> <br />The man at the rear end <br />Seems to find me interesting. <br />In him I seem to inspire dreams. <br />And when I dismount this over-burdened steed, <br />Another of the long haired and shrill voiced species <br />Will take my place, and entertain my co-passenger. <br /> <br />The end of my dupatta <br />Catches some bag’s zip. <br />I tug, I tug, remembering Draupadi, <br />My five fingers like the five Pandavas, are ineffectual. <br />The zip, like Dushyasan, doesn’t let go. <br />And I tug until I elbow <br />Someone next to me, and earn her glare, <br />Until Providence decides the moment of liberation. <br /> <br /> A ticket to *** Arts takes me around the city <br />In all its drama, bustling like a stage <br />That no one stops to watch. <br />The signal never shows green <br />As the Bus begs to traverse the busy Carrefour, <br />But sometimes, Patience is rewarded. <br />To vent his anger, the Bus takes a sharp turn <br />At the Hope College Road, and like limp rubber <br />My spine bends, propelled forward by those behind me..... <br /> <br />Life’s one long battle, and mine commences <br />Every morning on the Bus. <br />The Bus is the purgatory. <br />Purged, I am thrown out of it, <br />And into the Hell that College is. <br /> <br /><br />Krishnarasa Seshadri<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-110b-woes/
