End Of The Fold Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

Every fold I turn, there is excitement
But folds are unending and the excitement far-reaching.
Fingers become tired, hands too
but unfolding doesn't stop.
Painstaking, but there must be a gift at the end.
This is how every journey continues.
Finally the end of the fold -
And a piece of paper,
It is written thereon -
All these - roads, flyovers, shopping malls, food stalls,
All are made for you,
They are all for your consumption.
Go and buy,
Highrise, Sky high -
All made for you.

By the by
A deep sigh -
Moving through
Touches the sky.