Drown out all the noise,
Hurry up with those fires.
Drive a little harder,
Wear out those tyres.
Both in the midriff,
And under the chassis.
Hurry up with the haircuts –
Rather be rough than classy.
Because I am not Auden, or Tagore.
And these stars are moving faster than times of yore.
So to get there if I must,
and be the trust in your Miss Trust,
I will gladly bend over and be your whore.
[Same anonymous bengali poet of the twenty first century]