Crowds milling all day and beyond midnight
Crazy, bumping, cursing
Life-threatening are floating hustlers
Motorists go on honking even at red lights always
Begging never outlawed there
Speed is the order of the day
Even accidents don’t hold speed under control
Rushing is a malady and shops attract insects
Gumption is the Spirit of the Times.
‘Where are you going?’
An open-mouthed query.
‘Silly, where are you coming from?’
A brusque reply brushing away the asker’s question.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Anything in your pocket?’
‘Ask not where I’m going.’
People think they are friends.