Yellow.

This was inspired after I spent almost half a day riding around Kolkata in its ubiquitous yellow taxis, which could give Chris Martin a run for his money. This is dedicated to that someone who left me behind and walked away, while I still looked on, hoping he would come back and things would be the same all over again.

Those yellow blurs, they are everywhere

Old and derelict

With stained and shabby seat covers

Insides stinking of feet, old socks, sweat,

And the foul odour of stale things

Here sat someone, snuggling up to the warmth of a lover,

Embracing out the final few moments of togetherness

As the yellow turned into a lane

And brought them to a destination

Which would whisk the lover far away from his partner

Goodbyes said, tears shed

The orange-chequered interior has witnessed it all.

But I sit alone, pulling the shawl around my lonely body,

Tired and sad, like these yellow vehicles.