Stranded between the faces of a coin,
Despair and lost around landslide jolt of the Highway,
At the place where I shouldn’t be,
With a hustle I grabbed a taxi from Siliguri,
I was coming back home from an intense journey,
Suddenly I was stricken with a fear to have refrained me all over
When our vehicle stopped and can’t move any further.
I could have glimpse of the streets which has already perished,
as manmade disaster ransacked everything,
River lost its tribunal on the account of electricity,
As soon as spring blossoms disappears
starts monsoon devastation,
That’s keeps stranded at the either side where there is no consolation.
They have been institute with the higher degrees to my assumption,
After Seeing all this it seems they are playing drums on their own mimicry,
At their cruelty to have swapped a virtual drama,
excavators and tractors are scratching my mother’s derma,
nullifying the rigidity and the hardness,
Its seems stupidity they have learned and their subjects must have been ruthless..
On visualising the Teesta projects and the roads that are neglected
Now it’s high time for you to stead fasten your seat belt,
don’t disregard the lifeline that’s already felt..
Lament those wounds that you have given for the pride of Highway.
Before it’s too late…