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A Face in the Crowd

I wrote this poem almost an year ago to highlight the passive and apathetic nature of us humans towards others. I say this because there are very few people who genuinely feel and take interest in others' problems. Most of us just act like they are interested.

The very same situation is accurately portrayed in the bollywood movie Tamasha (2015) directed by Imtiaz Ali. There is a scene in the movie in which  *mild spoiler alert* someone asks the character of Ranbir Kapoor how he is. it's a pretty general question which we ask countless times to people around us every day; but when Ranbir's character begins telling the other person every acute detail of what is going on with his life, this other person gets paranoid and orders Ranbir to go away to which Ranbir's character replies, "Jab jaanana nahi hai to poochte kyon ho?!" (Why do you ask me how I am when you don't actually want to know?!)

Another characteristic of people nowadays which can be thought of as a corollary to the above situation is that they don't let their true emotions come to their faces. They don't let these emotions take a perceptible form. They keep to themselves and act in a way which appears as pleasing to others, and most of it is fake. In the process, their face becomes a mask of misleading happiness which hides all their true feelings. Hence, the title of the poem.

This poem is about a "face" that is searching for someone in a crowd of "masks". The reason why I have used the word "face" here will become pretty clear once you read the poem.
Here goes: 

A Face in the Crowd


I walk amidst people

And they walk with me.

We saunter together; our footsteps match,

But I still feel lonely.


Aristocrats, most of them;

Black suitcases and tuxedos.

And me, a casual shirt and jeans

Like a macaw in a murder of crows.


Hands in pockets, heads bowed down,

Asphalt pierced by the gaze of their eyes.

Wistfully, each pair scours the road

As if that's where the craved answer lies.


The answer to the woes, the griefs and the sorrows,

Pricking at their heart like a razor sharp pin.

But their callused facade doesn't radiate the pain

Concealed by the superficial layer of skin.


The sepulchral eyes and the lips sealed shut

Won't let what transpires in the depths, surface.

A perfect facsimile of a human

Except that it has, sans expressions, a face
.

A few days ago, I was the same.

My truest of emotions lay buried deep within,

Until I decided I could not endure the weight.

I tried to liberate it, to get rid of its sting.


But I needed a channel, a pair of ears

To share my agony and torment.

So, here I am in the crowd,

Expectantly gazing in eyes so vacant.


But they are too busy cogitating,

Catching their eye is an arduous task.

Acting as a camouflage to the heart,

What else is their countenance but a mask?


Amidst this crowd of masks

Walks an animate face with an intent stare.

Its existence jeopardized, for the masks

Won't respond to what the face wants to share.

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