She has a fancy pair of shades
Not to look fashionable
But to observe, to look around.
In dire need of a story
A character, a plot line
She spends umpteen hours
Revisiting her documented memories.
In paper and photos
And pictures and scribbles
But in vain, plan B: She begins
Chatting with strangers.
Trump safe after being targeted in second apparent assassinatio...
The guy who sells apples
And the sister who sells vegetables
To the conductor,
Who complains about people’s inability.
To stand properly in crowded buses
A conversation is difficult to start
When the other party has
A thick mask covering one’s face.
Most conversation involve
Complaining about the things the state didn’t do
Or what politicians promised to do
People seem infuriated.
People seem frustrated
People seem to have accepted
Seem to be in a hurry
To get away from the sand stormed city.
And puddles of mud
And rain and unpredictability
Everyone body is hurrying
Not a place to start conversations.
But there are old men
And some young people
Drinking tea in tea stalls
Again complaining about the rising milk price
The rising price of sugar and gas
She could join the conversation
But with her fashionable shades
She is an outcast there.
