Landless I am.
My town is hostile to me.
My friends hardly know me, my village is no longer my village.
Our tea shop now keeps country liquors
under the table for the Kerala-returned peasants.
My colleagues are miles away from my reach.
They shake earth and are shaken by the talks of the minions.
Bars are smoky, filled with gibberish talks of money and women.
Steely faces laugh while having phutchkas on dusty street corners.
The street scenes--a beggar before a famed restaurant or a shopping mall,
the lanky old watchman tirelessly parking luxury wedding cars with a bamboo pole,
a mad woman, stark naked lying on the busy footpath, shudder me.
I am homeless, my land is nowhere
My cherished face is nowhere.
Image © Dr. Abu Siddik