Looking through the grilled window Being seated on a shaky seat The passing breeze relieves a bit But within theres too much heat
Being pushed by a neighbor Whos trying hard to make himself a place He just elbowed my chest And even stepped on my shoe lace
Theres another one in front of me Reading a borrowed newspaper Cursing the politicians And praising his beloved cricketer
The crowd expands and a man moves in Now standing at point blank range Eyeing my precious seat Desperately praying for a change
The neighbor begins chewing 'paan' And on my trouser I notice a stain To hell with Mumbai travelling To hell with Local Train
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