Suspended Senses

The crowded city buzzes, neon lights flicker,
A child sleeps on the street corner,
Folded like a broken wing.
Could see its rib cage- brown keys with hollow notes
The hunger is eating him from inside
Left a hot sigh to shield him from the cold.
From the floor above, voices rise—debating ‘Food for all,’
In a land once fertile, now buried under concrete.

In schools, malls, hospitals, temples,
Saw the othered walk, an unknown shadow behind her
-A friend, a relative, a stranger, an officer
Plugged the ears, not to hear the scream
Shared hashtag- save women,
bought a pack of candles for tomorrow’s march
Closed the door, status reads- Happy Women’s day
searching for her in the news scrolls.

Vulgarity is joke, fun is someone’s pain
Suffering is dramatized, controversy for reach
Existentialism is redefined- life is in fun
The surfing face only blinks— cold, indifferent
Endless scrolls for the missing Godot
life is a story, trapped between the LEDs
Reel making- new cause of deaths
Screen is the only window to the world

On roads, in markets, at workplaces, in mines, on the border—
Saw him, labelled the most privileged.
Accused, cheated, killed, bullied, miss-handled.
Cuffed over a single statement—punishment first, proof next.
Laughed at the slap, brushed off the bruise,
Still needs to pretend: strong, immune to pain.
Some say, “Look, he’s not guilty—the fault is his.”
False case. Man’s suicide—headlines share the same corner.
His-story erased. She became a celebrity.

The room still smells of ink and unopened books,
A timetable on the wall, frozen at Monday.
His shoes untouched, like he might return.
A mother folds his uniform, not tears.
A father stares at a mark-sheet like it holds a pulse.
No note—just silence louder than screams.
Outside, a debate on ‘mental health awareness’
Plays softly on the TV they forgot to switch off.

The screen glows louder than voices at home,
They gave it to me—said, “Stay busy, don’t roam.”
They race, they run, they build empires of stress,
No time for hugs, just charts and success.
When I scroll, they scold—”Too much screen!”
But who listens when I speak, or cry unseen?
I tap, I swipe, to feel a touch—
Even silence there feels like something.
At least it blinks back.

All this in a flash—
The life paused for a while before the final blow off
Things blurred; numbness is suspended—pain is real.
Swimming in the blood pool hooked by the by standers
None moves- none cares,
Someone next to me spit out his paan, wiped his lips,
Held up his phone, hit record—
‘Ye mar gaya’—I became a pixel, just like anybody else.