Kathmandu, April 29, 2021: Pandemic Season 2
It’s not like April to scream. Panic
Shouldn’t rush in its capillaries of newness jacaranda a-flush purple
Or perturb the vigorous path of plans.
The fever sets in, yet. Shutters forced closed.
Commuters stutter at checkpoints, their masks and papers ready.
Marriages, festivities and appetites brought screeching hard to a halt.
So unlike April to kill joy.
Just six months or minutes ago masks held tight
To ears and chins, augmenting survival. Now, their slipping
From noses to toes have claimed corpses, says everybody. Everybody blames everybody.
Shutters ordered closed, what may happen in May? The government
Regurgitates its stale-by-a-year gibberish of controls and concerns, carrots and sticks.
Its faith in indifference or assumed naivete intact. Isn’t governance
A coy thing, just like nature? But the virus isn’t coy. Only social.
Very aggressively social.
We don’t want a social virus. That’s our motto.
The city is the motto painted to desolation.