Where Am I?

It was a pathetic evening Back from a busy day In a cold cubicle of white spreads I settle under a white quilt Pale and hungry... If i wanted to break from My aloneness, i just needed to make a call... 'hello, reception, ' pronounced A trained voice... I cradle the phone I didn't want to hear groomed voices They're so alike and lifeless Enough to augment the aloneness But why the hell should i...? The pathos of the evening Creaked in my joints The pair of footwear in a lonesome corner waited for my touch... Out in a city of clamour hawkers, buyers, colorful displays I walk like a mannequin Once in shining ebony black Once in pale cold marble whiteness Did anyone notice me? Did they find it strange to see A mannequin out on the street? Saravan Bhavan... Idly, dosa, blah blah... The pale hungry mannequin walked in The belly looking eagerly... I stuff idlies into it to satiate its growls... 'where're you? ' the voice asked 'Oh, yeah! Where am i? ' I quizzed in that conundrum of hunger on sale... I walk back in a tube Remote and distant The trained world of trading Blowing its lungs outside the tube...