….bedlam
on that street corner
of gariahat and hazra
silenced suddenly
(with one small step
into a mudfloored shack)
by the tapping
of typewritten
bureaucracy
here was the
raj’s lost glory
here indeed
the empire’s
manicured nails on keys
lined up – an army
of drumming fingers
birthing
governmental reports and
class projects and
overseas missives and
letters to editors and
notices of death
we waited
patiently
for flying digits to slow
so we could rush over
and start the next torrent
leaning in
we’d whisper sweetnothings
into the ears
of those silent magicians
watching and ducking
as
letters flew out
of hammered translations
as
thoughts drowned out
in clattering lettermongering
we’d sit very very still
lest
those shooting alphabets
got caught in
hair and eyelashes
like lettered glitter
that wouldn’t wash out
for days
but
those taptaptaptappings
musta
gotten lodged deep
thought that the monsoons
on that aluminum roof
had finally washed away
that babelic song
yet
here i am
30 365s later
typing
in tune
still.