A ten minute ride now takes hours,
Thanks to Mumbai’s perpetual pot holes,
All that happens is a few showers,
That make us scream: “Please Save Our Souls”.


Save Our Souls from the pools of corruption,
That surround Mumbai’s make-over schemes,
Everywhere it results in wasteful disruption,
Throwing water over our hopes and dreams.


The same contractors who do shoddy work,
Are the preferred bidders of the big-wigs,
The taste of money gives them a smirk,
As they move on the roads, their junky rigs.


Cordoning off roads for some future repairs,
Is for them most of the work done,
People suffer and are in tears and despair,
But these leeches have their bloody fun.


The courts then come in and order a count,
Of thousands of pot holes big and small,
Controversies then begin to mount,
That less than four feet is no hole at all!
(Pic courtesy: meri-awaaz-suno@blogspot.in)
(Pic courtesy: meri-awaaz-suno@blogspot.in)
Lives are lost, people and vehicles are injured,
But nothing moves these thick skinned thieves,
They witness the effect of what they conjured,
Public money passing through their corrupt sieves.


Life goes on with not a change in sight,
Across Mumbai’s dismal road-show,
We nurture a hope that the future is bright,
We shall soon reach where we want to go.


Alas, our Netas and Babus know for sure,
That people tolerance levels are high,
Next Monsoons the same fate they can endure,
Though this Monsoon may make them cry.


The financial capital of our nation,
Is reflective of the state we are in,
High hopes but lack of determination,
Makes us, of our future, unfairly sanguine.

© 2013, Sunbyanyname. All rights reserved.

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