Showing posts from December 2, 2012

A sarcastic poem on the Bangalore Auto Driver

Bangalore auto driver moves like king of streets In the middle of the road, abruptly he turns To find an elusive passenger, blocking traffic he glides Listening to his favorite music he swirls across the road like pikes
For many it is not about the passenger It is not about the fare It is not reaching someone somewhere It is all about chatting with friends without a care
Request, plead or urge him to come there With disdain looks like a maharaja of the yore He will with his eyes suggest what  a sore And continue with his snore
There are a obliging few Their fare meters are as honest and resolute as the morning dew There is no rhyme or rhythm in its upward move Before you realise you have pledged a fortune.
The facilities he expects from the Goverment are royal The language he uses is diabolical Honk your way  is his moral. When he hits your vehicle, it is normal When you hit his vehicle, his tribe, surrounds you like a mongrel
Somebody stop this three wheeled malice Metro, mono or an…