The street down below

the nerves are calm
and the breathing is silent

all is very quiet
intervaled by the honking motorbikes
and the vegetable vendor shouting
rather pleading

and then the nieghbour's child cries
another two wheeler zooming by

nothing will let me be by myself
and the quietness

at times it soothes me
this quietness
trapped within the walls

no physical touch
no embrace
no kiss

all that touches me
are my clothes
the sanitary napkin
the sweat
and the chappals

no it is nothing human
yet it all surrounds me

the voice of the unknown vendor
entering my room
the excitement of the children
playing down below

and now the neighbour's bell rings
I can hear one of them lock the scooter
another shuts the door
somewhere the pressure cooker whistles

in between this hussle of life
there are intervals of silence
moments when I am with myself
and moments which pull me away from it.