All The Roads Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

When will all these end?
I mean all these - the farce.
Roads that appear straight
end in an abyss -
sort of a triangle in the Pacific.
What is supposed to happen
doesn't happen,
what happens instead is a bedlam.
What should a man do
in such a situation?
You told me: life unfolds.
I agree - it does,
and when I asked you,
who blows the wind?
Do you remember:
you kept quiet.
Was your silence chosen,
or political?
I find no road in front of me.
Could you show me the way?
I remember - you told me once
all the roads lead to the bay.