In my saner moments I think i must be mad.
Mind-boggling philosophies that'd dethrone Nietzche
Shed blood at the altar of paradigms.
No hoax, this sacrifice.
Clinging to roots that clutch
And to the steel bar with a toe on the footboard
While eyes dart frantically
Now the clock, now the milk about to spill over,
Now the name boards on superfasts.
Wincing at the ‘over’ signal
Of the BPL washing machine,
Jumping out of the skin
At the whistle of the pressure cooker.
Seismic rumblings erupt and flow
Into shapeless scorching lava.
No moulds to trap the molten flow
In my saner moments I think I must be mad.
Written on July 11, 1994