under the peepul tree

crawling between machine gunning rickshaws
chromed, gaudy,and polluting buses
sitting stiffly in a sub compact
behind chauffeur or bearded driver
in upholstered seats, windows tinted dark
cursing the traffic, ignoring the melee
could hack only so much of pollution

took the first turn left and that street
looked vaguely familiar
passed by this freshly painted wall
then it suddenly registered
where did that peepul tree go

the walls were low, people friendly
when beneath the peepul tree's shade
we had locked eyes for the first time
she of quiet charm, grace and few words
she of that ready smile and zest
cosmic sitar played its tune
the peepul danced at the rendezvous

it faced the heat, drought, sun, neglect
fetching only what it needed
providing sanctuary and shade
till twisted insensibility
caused its demise

concrete sprawls killing nature
the walls grow, higher and higher

there was a time when walls demarked
now they imprison those inside
each inhabitant a prisoner
suspicious, hostile and fearful

here in the 'burbs we have no walls
yet we do not know our neigbours
over there high walls, same results
life is perplexing, not simple
times change, yet they remain the same