Ashok Niyogi
This is a freeway
As you know,
Toll-tax,
They learn
The economics fast,
But the bullock-carts
Go out last.
At a hundred and twenty
While switching lanes
I had the indicator on;
A turbaned gentleman
Waved me down
To an unscheduled stop.
I turned on my blinkers
And parked my car.
He asked ‘is anything wrong?
Why do you use your indicators so?’
‘To change lanes’ was my subdued reply,
He didn’t understand why.
Sand-melons from roadside stalls
Honey from apiaries subsidized,
Pickle from a roadside shop,
Who has already declared
That he wins the gold medal for 2004,
Ambala –Delhi is great fun.
