Horns

Every morning, I ride my Activa from my home to my studio and in that 5 km stretch (I think) and 15 minutes drive, I undergo a flurry of emotions - anger, amazement, humour, compassion and so on. This morning it was inspiration. Enjoy the read...

Horns

I wonder why the horns on the roads,

Go honk! honk! all day long?

If only there was melody in the noise

It could become a never ending song.

The bus driver’s horn is long and loud

Telling other cars to get out of its way,

The small cars horn can be long or short

Depending on what it wants to say.

If late, the hands never leave the wheels

Only to get stuck in the same red light as me,

It would be funny, if they would stop to think

But they are racing against time you see.

The motor bikes’ horn can squeak like a rat

Overshadowed by the big cars around,

Or it might roar with all its might,

And create zigzag patterns on the ground.

As for me, I often forget where the horn is,

At other times I think the horn has gone bad.

Like the humble bicycles who almost never honk,

I think the noisy cars have gone completely mad.