Chittaranjan Dash, Delhi, 14 July 2024
a paper shredder stands in its fighting gear,
ready to shred everything that the earth
will accept as its own – undesirable and
unwanted portions that have lived its day.
its fangs, shining thirsty with office debris,
works over-time with a murderous war cry.
a paper weight gawks with zero gravitation
attached to its blank stare of curiosity and
coos in its hatching position, dreaming all day,
some papers with godly attitude and bloated
egos, try to do the Houdini act to fly off like
itinerant birds in search of majestic towers,
from the motherly clutches of vice-like grip.
a money plant sulks in the corner – oozing
absent minded peremptoriness, wondering
how come lifeless things get so much attention
in the goddamn room of white blooded bureaucracy,
while she of the pure blood lives a loner’s life –
a delicate season wasted on despair.
lizards, rats, decadence and the dust conspire
in the evening in cosy comfort of darkness,
ensconced on jonquil yellow files – files whose bodies carry their own history,
unlike the officers who touch them like family
in the bedazzled humdrum of the day –
yet live miserably outside their own history.
