Jahangir Chowk ….

My departed time in 2022.
Jahangir Chowk ….
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Jahangir Chowk.

Long-standing traffic lights.

Red, I stop and ruminate.

Yellow, I make my mind.

Green, I decide to move on….

But then,

It was December,

The month of accidents.

I was hit in Green zone

And wasn’t able to move an inch.

Trapped in a din.

Perhaps forever.

Crowd. Honking. Pell-mell.

It all magnifies resonance

of a shocking minutiae.

Lifeless souls never stop.

I feel roads are choked.

The diversions are demonic.

and connections convoluted.

I only spot startling juxtapositions--

Protracted problems.

Intricate interplays.

Complicated commonness.

It is what it is.

My departed time in 2022.

My grief.

My memory.

My remorse.

My moment.

It is as it is with many.

It is real but rarely talked.

Is censur so deep?

Is connect so criminal?

Leaving us dreadfully drenched

and yet pitifully parched.

My search is in vain.

They call it ‘existential duality’.

Oh, really?

What about limitless infinite?

The unsaid word?

The undiscovered mystery?

The undreamed reality?

Yes, the frivolous inveigles.

Wrestling the seasons

of shade and shine

glee and grief,

Time trembles, gasps.

I am told it’s over!

As always.

Jahangir praised us.

He visited us.

Left a mark.

But

Accidents of history

don’t cease.

We suspend

the suspension of reality.

And persist

the paradox of pain.

We. Yes, we!

We’ll begin 2023 —

Try rebuilding our smashed empires.

Collect the debris

and go inside the ruins.

Looking for some bits of us,

some tattered tales

and pitiless promises.

They call Jahangir a ‘heartless ruler’!

Was he unpitying?

Was he unforgiving?

Whatever, he wasn’t unfeeling!

Our Jahangir Chowk is unflustered,

It’s full of frenzy.

No matter who crosses

Or who gets crushed.

The junction has just passages,

and 2023 is just a voyaging number

Ala shifting number plates…!

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