On that hot humid and sultry day
By a state bus I was, for an appointment on my way.

Unbearable was the strong summer heat
And uncomfortable those cushion-back & hot seat.

It cruised along passing through those bumpy roads & villages
Those have just not changed a wee bit since ages.

But then what was more intolerable by any account
Was the driver blowing those jarring horns repeatedly at every count.

Those horn sounds followed some sequence strange!
That only got me more heated and enraged.

"What the hell he is upto" I thought
And may be in a better mindset would have even with him fought.

Restless and helpless I looked around to see
If there would be some equally irritated fellows like me.

Well most of them that I saw were fast as sleep
Or in their world oblivious of the sound blaring steep.

Again I turned this time to that last row
Where I saw those few boys merrily tapping their toes.

As if clapping for the great sunny day's heat
And enjoying to no end that horn sound beats!

All blissfully in their own world making gay
Even as the bus was moving jumping over those bumps on its way.

I slowly sat back and flopped into my hot seat
Reflecting; why those sounds did not mean to my ears a treat?

May be I did not find in those sounds the music
Or may be those boys rejoiced those sound as music.

I further thought, afterall the sound waves were the same
But then to like it or hate, it's all in the game.

For, life is like that, and when you like it; its music
And life is also like this, when you don't; you call it sick.

Well, they loved it all, some may call it their innocence
While I just did not, for may be I was in no sense

Mohan Prasad