Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Stopping by Mount Road, on a Busy Evening
Little could anyone have ever forebode
That such events ’d unfold on Mount Road.
It seemed just another ordinary day
When the traffic, as usual, had slowed.
But the signal hadn’t turned red.
What more it was green instead.
So were all the girls around.
“Mamma Mia!” the guys said.
Standing by the road was a goddess,
A drop-dead stunner she was, no less,
Surveying the scene with marked disdain
In her lovely blue salwar dress.
Verily was it a soothing sight for sore eyes.
It was the sort of face for which a Romeo dies.
A disbelieving hush fell over the place
Broken only by desperate sighs.
She was beautiful, tall and fair.
Exceedingly rare, beyond compare
Like the elusive lily-of-the-valley.
In her making, no expense did He spare.
Of a mythical land, seemingly ethereal and far,
Her eyes shone with the light of the Even Star.
Cold ebony burnt into the first of hapless souls
And the victim lost control of his car.
Into the median, his Maruti careened and dashed.
Then the Santros and the Sumos also crashed.
The cops looked on, in a state of trance,
While the poor dears were being coyly eyelashed.
Like a supermodel did she ease into a pose,
While up in the air went her chiselled nose.
Never before in the history of Chennai city
Had Mount Road witnessed such turbulent flows.
Visions of the ground beneath her dainty feet
Blurred windshields in front of every driver’s seat.
There wasn’t much anybody could do
Except watch their machines turn into mincemeat.
Lurking around her lips was a knowing smile
As bikes and buses were added to the pile,
Adorned by tangled rubber and mangled steel.
It was a trail that stretched on for many a mile.
Her mouth curled into a dismissive pout
Once the rush-hour traffic had been put to rout.
Daisy-cutters and bunker-busters were put to shame.
“Bombshell ahoy!” somebody was heard to shout.
As she walked away in a haughty sashay,
After doing what only she may.
The pretty miss turned and blew a kiss.
I daresay it took a few breaths away!
Her hair streamed through the windy night,
Proudly resplendent in the silvery moonlight.
Necks kept craning; heads kept turning;
For long, even when she was out of sight.
On an evening when CCTP hopelessly flopped,
When knees buckled and jaws dropped,
When Mount Road came to a grinding halt,
It was more than just the traffic that stopped.
Management Class : Idylls of the Wannabe
That such events ’d unfold on Mount Road.
It seemed just another ordinary day
When the traffic, as usual, had slowed.
But the signal hadn’t turned red.
What more it was green instead.
So were all the girls around.
“Mamma Mia!” the guys said.
Standing by the road was a goddess,
A drop-dead stunner she was, no less,
Surveying the scene with marked disdain
In her lovely blue salwar dress.
Verily was it a soothing sight for sore eyes.
It was the sort of face for which a Romeo dies.
A disbelieving hush fell over the place
Broken only by desperate sighs.
She was beautiful, tall and fair.
Exceedingly rare, beyond compare
Like the elusive lily-of-the-valley.
In her making, no expense did He spare.
Of a mythical land, seemingly ethereal and far,
Her eyes shone with the light of the Even Star.
Cold ebony burnt into the first of hapless souls
And the victim lost control of his car.
Into the median, his Maruti careened and dashed.
Then the Santros and the Sumos also crashed.
The cops looked on, in a state of trance,
While the poor dears were being coyly eyelashed.
Like a supermodel did she ease into a pose,
While up in the air went her chiselled nose.
Never before in the history of Chennai city
Had Mount Road witnessed such turbulent flows.
Visions of the ground beneath her dainty feet
Blurred windshields in front of every driver’s seat.
There wasn’t much anybody could do
Except watch their machines turn into mincemeat.
Lurking around her lips was a knowing smile
As bikes and buses were added to the pile,
Adorned by tangled rubber and mangled steel.
It was a trail that stretched on for many a mile.
Her mouth curled into a dismissive pout
Once the rush-hour traffic had been put to rout.
Daisy-cutters and bunker-busters were put to shame.
“Bombshell ahoy!” somebody was heard to shout.
As she walked away in a haughty sashay,
After doing what only she may.
The pretty miss turned and blew a kiss.
I daresay it took a few breaths away!
Her hair streamed through the windy night,
Proudly resplendent in the silvery moonlight.
Necks kept craning; heads kept turning;
For long, even when she was out of sight.
On an evening when CCTP hopelessly flopped,
When knees buckled and jaws dropped,
When Mount Road came to a grinding halt,
It was more than just the traffic that stopped.
Management Class : Idylls of the Wannabe
mental baba 6:20 AM
