A Week Of Difference

 stepping out of the gate
 feel a jerk seeing the thoroughfare
 men racing in cars,
 bikes fleeing in speed
 auto rickshaws flying  in all directions 
I pull my foot in,

Unable to draw my feet out
 I stay put inside,
peeking through the  brass rods
 holding them tight.  An unknown fear
pervades as I stare at the road. 
One and a half year of imprisonment 
has turned me a  recluse.

Gathering myself I walk out
 still nervous, Everything 
seems new. I stagger, My eyes 
 give out as they express an astonishment 
seeing so many on the road  not having 
 crossed one of them this eighteen months.