I loiter through each chaotic but crowded street,
Near there ugly but once pious Yamuna blow,
I saw the pain on every face I meet and greet,
Saw wrinkles of exhaustion and strain of woe.
In every tear of each human,
In every shrill of every child in fear,
In each scary voice, in every nook and turn,
The disturbing hunger and terror, I hear.
How the fake learner dying for freebies high;
Every charted institution brutally trolls,
And the nationalist and brave soldiers sigh,
Walls of high rising splattered in blood boils.
But in the dark midnight, in a garden, I hear,
How the covered Harlots, veiled sit in, rejoice,
Laughs at the pains of commuters tear,
And enjoys with the plague of a secular curse.
