sillycon wordsmith
Adjacent to my office, a new tech park is being built. A big rock that lived underground peacefully for many centuries was broken to bits as the space was urbanised to build a humongous office complex. As I gaze outside and see the gaping hole in the ground, where a gentle huge giant once lived, I felt a deep pang that resulted in this poem “Gentle giant”.
Not too long ago, in New Thippasandra opposite my house was a tree lined avenue with 67 wonderful old trees. One day they were all cut to widen the road to add two bloody lanes which still continue to remain jammed everyday. Now the BBMP has its eyes on the Indiranagar BDA complex re-development and the old beautiful trees there are threatened. Activists and tree huggers protested a few weeks ago, but who knows what…
It is becoming very frustrating to constantly tear the posters stapled to the trees, rip the buntings hanging everywhere, chase away people who fling garbage anywhere, educate pournamikas not to burn the dry leaves. Well these are part of my morning dog walk routine, but nothing changes. So I decided to express my helplessness as a poem.