The Milestone Marked Nine Poem by Bashyam Narayanan

The milestone marked nine

I am by the side of a metro bus stop
Under the shadow not-so-fully grown gulmohar tree
Whose trunk is still protected by a tree guard

Crows and mynas perching on this tree
Often bless me with their droppings

But I remain in my shape
I may be a little over one foot tall
Wide enough for any person to rest on me

People, mostly elderly, sit on me
Preferring me to the tall stainless stool
Beneath the shelter
As they are confident of not tilting dangerously

I used to see dreams in the eyes of most of the people
Who wait for their bus to come

Some plan a future
Some ponder over the past pains
Some visualize their daughter’s wedding
Some think of a comfort after their son’s employment
Some plan for their retired life
Some have a dialogue with their unseen gods
Some keep talking over their mobile phones
Some sit on me minding not the bird dropping on their shirt
Some do not mind the spider spinning its web
Just above their head on the tree branch
Some smoke
Some keep munching fried peanuts
All keep busy themselves

Some may not have even noticed
This silent observer
The milestone marked nine