Flyovers Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Proud our progress might look with flyovers,
But not for me are toll-speckled speedways,
Pylons hacking hinterland, tall towers—
I long for the good old fashioned highways.

Cunningly covering up urban mess,
Gloating over the land be-locked problems,
Demolish if we can't the urban slums,
Ostrich-like fast-forward from past, I guess.

Treating the world below as nether land,
Cut off as if from sun and cast asunder,
Whilst ugly growth is left on self to mend,
What price progress? What price this urban blunder?

Till our progress is wide, as is well-spread,
Unto empty space, skyward would it head,
All us desire a brand new world to build,
But should we let whatso greenery killed?

Fast flyovers are fine, and expressways,
But urban poor nor do the farming hand,
Nor poor villagers need be locked in land,
Over-looked, nor yet stranded on bye-ways.

But that's what most flyovers seem to do,
The expressways when but two metros care,
Leaving smaller towns in suspended air,
Don't we on dotted lines but two dots woo1?

The rest are if left out from larger share,
Progress me think shall remain ritual fare.
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Happenings | 03.06.04 |