OPERATIONAL

BANDRA EAST STATION

After being released from the work pressure,

Walking down the station adds stress more.

For the roads clogged with traffic, 

Of the rickshaws and the people and the settlement and vehicles.

 

We are in a jam and ground to a halt,

Is it anyone's fault?

But wait a minute it's not all slow,

We are moving 100 steps per hour.

 

Overtaking rickshaws give please sublime,

And honking is our favorite, national pastime.

Binding our life to the post of the station,

Blinding our eyes to the opportunity ahead.

 

Between the road and the footpath,
The rickshaw valas creating a barrier, a wall.

A semi public space thereby being introduced, 

Making the footpath their second home.