My Kingfisher Boeing landed in Delhi airport
And I seated on 8 A, on my window-seat alone
Experience many sounds of many types,
Heavy thud of the back-tyres, and then
Thick metallic part of plane vibrating to noise,
Then the front tyre landing to a different sound,
Then what arises from the interaction on runway,
Other loose things singing their grating chorus.
When I see on the airport ground
Two human beings too close for comfort
In these days of daily terrorist blasts,
Looking like employees: the second man
With both hands in front – in the way we associate
With only one thing. My countryman was ‘peeing’
In the glare of the morning at 9 am showing back to the plane.
Natural citizen of a great superpower, not bothered.... eh?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem