Something

Note: The poem describes a minute bus stop in one of the terminals in Bangalore metropolitan city. Indians peeing on the wall is the most prominent thing one could see anywhere in India—in front of the crowd. Very embarrassing!



Everybody is doing something—
working, talking, staring, sitting,
sleeping, standing, waiting,
peeing…

I am doing nothing.
Just watching.
Or so I tell myself.



At a boulevard depot,
a minute bus stop,
I stand here looking—
doing nothing.
Or maybe doing everything
by doing nothing at all.



Everybody is doing something—
driving, climbing, jerking, crying,
reading, writing, playing,
peeing…

I am doing nothing.
But my mind is occupied
by all these somethings.
So am I really idle?
Or just busy in a way no one can see?



A minute watch.
Catch a touch
of wall painting
and wall washing.
Or is that just another name
for what they're doing over there?



Everybody is doing something—
selling, buying, tweaking, pulling.
Some happy, some sad, some eating.
Some angry, some disturbing.
A minute: three people peeing.

Wall painting or wall washing?
Hard to tell anymore.

I am doing nothing.
But my mind is occupied by all these somethings—
and still, I feel like I'm doing nothing.

Maybe that's my something.
Maybe watching is working.
Maybe standing here, confused and confident,
is the most honest thing anyone's doing today.