Unknown City maze

That rainy morning, the roads were slow,

with dusty buses, slapped with

marks of loose dirt and trace of vomits

on its side just above the back wheels.

The overload old trucks shoot fumes

from the back as they struggle uphill.

The musty motorcycles honked

as they sped pass from both sides of the bus. 

The haze lazily covered the approaching

road behind the bends of winter hills.

 

A few hours ago, roadside villages

had appeared with sheaves of ripe corn hanging

from quiet verandas, red chilies drying in the sun.

And a small unknown city had passed with

lantern lights on the verandah

emerging from the haze of smoke.

An early chill morning tea kiosk had set up

 on both sides of road with the noisy stove steaming

 hot bowl of milk tea. People had gathered around

holding the warm tea cup between their palms

The bus driver had stopped by

the side of the highway and had us go

 out for bathrooms alongside the quiet unknown river.

 

A short while later, the unknown city emerged from

the layers of dust hung right above it. Its roads

packed with dusty potholes enough to wake

the sleepyhead passenger inside.

The honk of cars, the musty motorbikes,

The stud bulls, the crowd of bystanders

The rusty bicycle and squeaky rickshaws

the poor city road welcomed everyone.

The herds of passengers started rushing to

get out near the bus entrance door during

 frequent stops. This afternoon was long spent

 wondering what had become of the city some

 years later where once a beauty of city stood.