Will you spare me a minute or two?
That is all I will take.
You do not have more to give either.
Worry not.
I will not talk about the intricate beauty of the last dandelion.
Or bring to you the gurgling wisdom of the mountain rivers.
No stories of rustling leaves, no walk in the woods either.
That is not us.
They are the strip joints of the modern world.
We titillate ourselves in air-cooled tents by the lakeside.
Buy weekend packages from off-beat travel companies.
Eat Punjabi food, in rural Maharashtra.
That. Is us.
We are women of malls.
Men of pubs.
The monarchs of Saturday Nights.
We devour our Twitter timeline.
And some still survive on the spam called Newsfeed.
Most of us Whatsapp.
A miserable few, BBM, still.
We all want to start our own things.
Have more followers.
Learn to play the guitar.
And get in shape.
I love us.
Meet me.
I am all of you.
Your Everyday Poet.
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