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Trapped in a city
That has yet to come to terms with itself,
Like unblemished orchids in shadows
At the entrance to a house,
You find pseudo knowledge
From digital media
In the ensnared quiet of morning
To explain your condition.
‘It is not as bad as it looks,’ you say,
‘This part of the city is safe, because of these reasons,’
You depend on data for water and air readings
Twisting it to suit your rationale,
And listen to expert commentaries on the subject
Caught in a guessing game of ‘I’m safe!’
Who can tell you that even scientists
Do not believe in “once right, always right” premise.
Science, they say, is not foolproof nor logic impeccable.
There is no panacea to all the ills of the world
But just piecemeal solutions—
If you are lucky you survive,
Else kaput—Om namah shivaya!
And if you feel trapped as an émigré
Then find a path to exit,
A sliver of light to paradise, Scoot if you can!
Else suffer the pangs of anxiety
Based on questionable stats
And feel trapped like malleable orchids
In a gloomy house. |
