Hyderabad chronicles-Post 1

I look at you. Dark and dingy,  even on a bright warm sunny day. You reek of death.  You smell of gore, Of violence and blood.

You scare me to no extent. There was a time,  a point of time when I used to look at you,  shiny yellow and blue. I found your presence bliss.

I found you to be a regular companion. Steady and unmoving. But then,  obviously,  like me,  you too enjoy a change,  in dress and style.

Unfortunately, you don't really get to choose what style  you may like, do you? They decide to deck you up when we have visitors in town. Sometimes bubblegum pink,  and other times a dash of white,  saffron and green,  with dirty red streaks here and there.
There are those days,  when it's just years of dust piling up on you, making you look older.
But today, you aren't old,  you aren't young.  You are just hideous. I don't perceive the old emotions,  the pleasant days,  when I found your presence to calm me and remind me that I am halfway through the journey.
Today,  I want to run away from you.  I want to go as far as I can from the echoing screams that have marred your presence, from the blood that is so gorily staining the prim blue seats.
I would rather not wait for a bus near you. I would rather not recollect the pleasant memories of school kids, stopping by with their heavy bags, heads tilting  with smiles and laughter after a regular day of bickering on books,  maybe some exams. I would rather not think of lovely old Sitamma who's no longer selling jasmine and chrysanthemums.

I hope you disappear.  I hope the new development schemes HUDA comes up with,  may push you off into thin air,  transforming you into rubble and concrete dust.  Dilsukhnagar bus stop, I hope you don't exist.