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.

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.