Bus-Mess

I rush to the bus stand, every morning,
crowdy, rickety-rackety bus comes horning.

Holding breath, I run towards the door,
struggling crowd, try to push me to the floor.

Balancing myself, I cut the rushing crowd,
as a mere successful fighter, I manage to get on foot-board.

Rash sudden turning in deep road curves,
thuds the vibration all in my nerves.

Get inside..get inside , driver yells,
pressing herd, make life hells.

Hemmed in crowd I gasp for air,
stamping legs makes pain difficult to bear,
one hand pulling duppatta struck somewhere,
other clutching bag, expecting cut-purse hand from no-where.

Hanging hands hit my head,
to some, I become vertical bed.
Shaking, I try making myself free,
but all in vicinity stand like tree.

Suddenly driver presses the break hard,
I bump the lady who is in no yard..
quizzically stitching the brows she turns to stare,
ducking head, I say sorry to set back the gear.

Itz hard to tolerate a long act,
internally I yell, driver bhaiya drive fast.
Aha!! finally comes my destination bus-stop
creeping the crowd I pop.

Oh lord, this bus-mess really sucks,
all I suffer is for jingling bucks.

Have to face to lead a normal life,
but month end washes all strains in one wipe. :)

---sumana