By Rituparna Maji
the city hosts a lifelong race of ‘IT’ rats,
alas, without building a big enough stadium,
cars move like tortoises instead of rabbits,
such is the weight of vehicle density
braveheart cyclists try to usher change,
balancing through garbage and poor air quality,
dedicated cycle lanes are too much to ask for
when walkers struggle to find pavements
branches of big trees stop kissing each other,
their fate sealed by a cheap licence to fell,
green turns grey at an exponential rate,
the former reduced to mere dots on maps
summer breeze feels like a rolling ball of fire
as the city transforms into a free sauna,
with red alert for heatwave becoming a norm,
temples up the ante to appease rain gods
few millimetres of rain does enough damage
for the city to frantically look for rescue boats,
all thanks to storm water drains disappearing,
overwhelmed by the greed of encroachment
in government offices, helpless citizens ask:
how much to pay? and to how many?
underhand dealings are so standardised,
it could even put the japanese to shame
mafias control shrinking ground water supply,
court decides share of water from a river,
with gush thinning to trickle in many parts,
an evacuation looms large on the horizon
yes, we are dying a slow death,
but no, we are not a failure yet,
dare not judge us to be a failure,
till … we join the dinosaurs!