
AN HOUR AT A HOSPITAL
i stand before a lovely lawn of a beautiful home for an hour and embrace its early morning warmth. patients old young rich poor make waves like the Jalangi of my village. sky is heavy with great expectations– a child is born, an elderly touches the sky of heaven–some berate breasts, some steely pass carrying dying limbs, others adjust looks in rear glasses. Paid polished men and elegant ladies wear coded uniform and like domesticated dogs they bark and stir tails as codes dictate. guards abuse the poor and spread red carpet for the moneyed. the counters full of coins,