Part Of The Routine

Everyday it's the same old chore
A busy city bustling by it's sleepy shore..
You come back home and breathe in deep
As your tired eyes long for a bad night's sleep
There is an owl perched up on a lifeless tree
As you seem tell the feathered night Queen
All this is a part of a routine

Wake up to search for a sleeping Sun
The traffic below is well on the run
The cadence of a galloping time is in the heartbeat
As the alarm clock summons you to your feet
Snoozing is out waking is in
The daily agenda is in the dustbin
Since all this is a part of a routine

A beggar nibbles ona rottenbread
There's a long que by the toilet shed
As a rag picker shoos off a dog for his catch
As street urchins play a football match
All running behind a big round ball
In the play of life we're all, a cabotin
All that is just another part of our routine

A lady screams on at her ever silent man
Searching like a dreamer for his little dreamland
As their hungry childrenkeep yelling away
'Almighty he swears', it's another long day
And time creeps upon this stupid state of mind
Biding the while with a comatose grin
All that is just another part of his routine

In the nearby station a train rushes in
A flock of people scrambles to get in,
Chucked into the wagon like a pile of logs
Or like garbage chucked into a bin of crap
Just let lose but do fight for your little gap
And listen to a radio song, while you gasp for air
The same old routine remains the same everywhere

There is a corrupt man behind the mike
With overfed guards on their corpulent bikes
As the idiots stampede to glimpse a zealot
Singing paean of lies for the clickers to jot
Shouting slogans that mean nothing
As he waves to none, with his hyena like grin
All the same it is just another part of his routine

There is a slum stretched a good five miles long
A rusty tin board stood a decades storm..
In a tea cup, in the name of slum rehabilitation..
A Project indeed, with a very good mission..
With a prodigal plan and a lazy commission
It's all human error and you can't dare call it sin
Where such errors are just a part of a routine

Two dozen young guys are lined up on the road
As the early hour traffic checks the living billboard
Amidst the jammed signals in the morning rush hour
A radio channel is chatting with a silver screen star
A logo'd T Shirt, a few fast bucks for twenty four
Is an effective budget for such a quick short furor
Dear guys, it's just another part of our routine

The doors of state offices are open to bribe
As currency notes flow for an official scribe
We're taxed by the rulers, but what of the knaves
That's how you create their take home pays
The clerks, the cops, the peons and the minister
Have a common skill to gulp the public cash in
Such a skill is just another part of their routine

A couple find their passions on a dead man's grave
Graphiti depicts love equations of a love one craves
On relics preserved down the ages of time
A public toilet of an abusive mind, in line
With the fiery pace of the perplexed mind
As a culture shock rocks and goes for a spin
All that is just another part of a routine

Tourists, we happily invited the other day
Take home these pictures to our utter dismay
But what can we do? We say to ourselves..
The system are screwed and so are we, and…
Changing all this is not our cup of tea
So recluse and gape and watch world spin
All the same it is another part of our routine.

by Avik Datta Gupta

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