Soliloquy

When you think of Chandigarh, think of the three
Poplars that line the road on the way
Back from the serene confines of Sukhna. See
How they make room for the callous sway

Of your inhuman overtures. Look at one tree,
Feel its wrinkled bark on a sunny day.
If you happen, at the moment, to think of me,
Do so after you avoid the Sukhna spray.

If the fog clears up, or if you have the audacity
To have gone in summer (having lost your way!)
I hope the Shivaliks welcome you at the knee
And serve you pity on an ice-cold tray.

If the rock gardens overwhelm you with alacrity
And you wonder if you still want to stay,
Then think of the sun, and think of the free
Wind that carries you around all day.

When Sector 17 embraces you with a plea
To remain sober until the mist turns to grey,
I hope you think no more of home and agree
To join in on this precarious, inept ballet.