While riding to the campus,
Along the familiar road,
Running through,
The familiar landscape,
I saw:
Fellow cyclists,
Riding fast to their destinations;
The cycle repairer,
Patching up a punctured tube;
The welder, at his wayside hut,
Soldering the broken handle,
Of a new tricycle;
The blacksmith sweating,
At the obstinate bellows,
To fan the cheerless blaze;
The shop-keeper wrapping,
A loaf of bread,
In a piece of paper;
The collies scattering,
The cut coconut husks,
Over the concrete ground.
It was just the same,
That I`d seen on April 30, 2009,
And I`d see on May 2, 2009,
If I happened to ride,
Along the same way.
The same mould!
Time, the old tedious old fool,
Had forgotten the importance
Of International Labour Day.
