Posting pretty pictures..

The Monkey Act


Mikazaru

As i write this i’m not listening to the rasping concrete mixers

Although i see them turn relentlessly in the corner window

Not hearing the four-storey rearing on the next vacant lot

the wilderness home of four golden jackals (until the day the JCB came)

Not listening to the roar from the imprisoning high-rise readying on the other side

(Will the emerald doves that lived in the felled orchard move back in?)

Or hearing the decibels of hysterical realtors reach a crescendo

In the background score of this locality of prime

Like the car horn cacophony crawling its way up Mussoorie

Or the ominous sound of tree hacking in the finally quiet night

And in all this effort of not hearing, how can i hear the ugly drone

of my inverter driven fan circling slowly?



Mizaru

I cannot see the sheet of dust settling on every horizontal surface

I cannot see the abandoned and blinded old bull at the street corner

Though he stands in the same spot everyday

Nor can i see the reserve forest thin alarmingly behind

Green sal trees disappearing for the ‘sake of the state’

(Can’t we already hear the inaugural applause at the plush new project?

“medical tourism is just what we need”)

And in all this looking away

how can I see our very own shameful mountain of consumption

growing exponentially beside the gate?



Mazaru

So I have decided

Not to hear

Not to see

Not to speak

But to post pretty pictures

And to leave it to CFGD and FOD

to deliver my precious green valley..