An evening tram ate a poet’s
absent heart, years before this
last ride I stumble in, my legs and feet
shivering from a consuming sprint,
toes ringing. I sit on tattered melancholy.
The clouds profound. A zing if bolt, city rushes by,
votes once more to wrench out the rails,
harvest the electric thin reflections
of the running sky. The authority erases
tomorrow. The tram stops here tonight.
They’ll chop the lines, albeit in this light
the tram looks like a crawler, the one
whose limbs regenerate if violated.
.
Kolkata’s tram was the city’s icon; if one were to vlose his eyes and imagine Kolkata the trams would appear from nowhere. The government decided to discontinue with it. It was a loss making concern and might have caused accidents.
After 151 tears tram ends its journey.
Kushal Poddar
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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