This is a poem in which I rant about going to office on a regular basis. Here is the content:

You may think

That going to office on a regular basis

Is not a big deal

However, the reality is as different

As sugar is, from salt

Especially when it comes to a city like Mumbai

Which is defined by its crowd

Particularly in case of its lifeline

The famous local trains

To say that they run jampacked throughout the year

Would be the understatement of the decade

Anyway, coming back to work from office

The day starts as early as 6 AM

As you do your best

To carry out your morning routine

Fighting sleep all the time

Thankfully though, once you leave the confines of home sweet home

You are ready for the long haul

Helped by the fact

That there is an AC fast local from Vikhroli

Which will deposit you at Dadar

In a mere fifteen minutes

It is then, that your troubles begin

After crossing over from Central to Western Railway

You barely manage to board a slow local

And are squeezed to such an extent

That, by the time you get down at Lower Parel

Your shirt, which has recently been ironed

Is now full of wrinkles

And it doesn’t stop right there

There is a ten-minute walk to your office

In the searing heat of the summer

Made worse by the fact

That the area surrounding your office is a complete mess

Thanks to the ongoing construction of a bridge

And by the time you finally reach office

You are drenched in sweat

From head to toe

However, thanks to the centralised AC

You are able to settle down quickly enough

And forget your troubles in the process

Because, naturally, work takes precedence!

However, there is the small matter

Of the return commute

A ten-minute walk to Lower Parel station

Followed by a short ride to Dadar

In which you nevertheless manage to get squeezed, yet again

After a chaotic changeover

From Western to Central Railway

You board another slow local

Hoping against hope, for a smoother journey

However, as always, you are wrong

This time, the choke sets in immediately

And all you can do, is keep praying

As the stations pass by

And the crowd accordingly swells in proportion

Until Vikhroli finally arrives

After what seems like ages

And you gratefully board an autorickshaw

Which drops you at home sweet home

In a mere fifteen minutes

However, it isn’t over yet

You have to go to office tomorrow as well

And the cycle repeats

Going to office on a regular basis

Is indeed a big deal