<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=411435" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Where am I?</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a pathetic evening<br>Back from a busy day<br>In a cold cubicle of white spreads<br>I settle under a white quilt<br>Pale and hungry...<br>If i wanted to break from<br>My aloneness, i just needed<br>to make a call...<br>'hello, reception, ' pronounced<br>A trained voice...<br>I cradle the phone<br>I didn't want to hear groomed voices<br>They're so alike and lifeless<br>Enough to augment the aloneness<br>But why the hell should i...? <br>The pathos of the evening<br>Creaked in my joints<br>The pair of footwear in a lonesome corner<br>waited for my touch...<br>Out in a city of clamour<br>hawkers, buyers, colorful displays<br>I walk like a mannequin <br>Once in shining ebony black<br>Once in pale cold marble whiteness<br>Did anyone notice me? <br>Did they find it strange to see<br>A mannequin out on the street? <br>Saravan Bhavan...<br>Idly, dosa, blah blah...<br>The pale hungry mannequin walked in<br>The belly looking eagerly...<br>I stuff idlies into it to satiate its growls...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'where're you? ' the voice asked<br>'Oh, yeah! Where am i? '<br>I quizzed in that conundrum of hunger on sale...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walk back in a tube<br>Remote and distant<br>The trained world of trading<br>Blowing its lungs outside the tube...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Indira+Babbellapati">Indira Babbellapati</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=411435" data-title="Where am I? de Indira Babbellapati" data-description="It was a pathetic evening Back from a busy day In a cold cubicle of white spreads I settle under a white quilt Pale and hungry... If i wanted to break from My aloneness, i just needed to make a call... 'hello, reception, ' pronounced A trained voi..."></div> </div> </div>

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