The Full Circle Paradox

We landed, one early morning of June, in the US of A;

not too different 'twas by civil infrastructure, I daresay,

from the city we came from, back home in India;

well determined were we to keep away all phobia,

associated with any first-time travel to a far-off land;

and being non-judgmental, for situations to understand.

According to the general all-around prognostication,

went well the initial days, deep in somnolent stipulation;

excitement had taken its toll, being implored recompense;

our bodies slowly adjusted to the altered diurnal cadence;

cautiously attempt to interact, we did, with the surrounds;

feelings felt new, so did visuals, olfactions, and sounds.

Horrifying it was to behold vehicles to the right

different familiarities interpreted a traffic blight;

for a habituation lasting six decades and more,

the inertia to change, it was unfair to deplore;

but this liberality on behavior also meant,

the vow of tolerance had begun to relent.

On a positive note, there was a theme of disbelief;

upon avowals, it still qualified as arbitrary relief;

to walkers at road-crossings, precedence was given;

by all drivers, rule-abidance was consciously striven;

this was a miracle, 'cause for road-users from our climes,

such conduct would have killed 'em a hundred times.

The span of daylight was another matter of trepidation;

an ordeal it was guessing time by the sun's inclination;

routines went for a toss, mundane living was at a loss,

that we were in America was our only remaining gloss;

by now the will to stay uncritical, by a distance had slid;

the binding between purpose and action became undid.

Thunderstorms today, the weatherman predicted,

and deftly contrived to remain un-contradicted;

a few distant rumblings for an acoustic backdrop;

intermittent wind-gusts to keep the pretense upprop;

one such surge, being manipulatively circumspect,

yanked free a brief from the clothesline, for effect.

The abandoned, orphaned brief, on the sidewalk lay,

trampled upon by folks, as they went about their way;

many more ignominies it endured, uncomplainingly,

until a homeless person claimed it, quite delightedly;

he quickly squeezed it, with a furtive glance around,

into a frayed backpack, with assorted things enwound.

Watched all this in wide-eyed amazement did we,

with a little disillusion and a little more of glee;

here was an accustomed incident at long last;

weathermen, flying briefs, were universal typecasts;

in the warmth of thrill, the residual gloss was shed;

going about this strange land was no more a dread.

In our eagerness to demonstrate probity,

waylaid victims we become of the oddity,

where, to be non-judgmental, is to be so,

criticism is the tool for meanings to hoe;

the phenomenon is the Full-Circle Paradox,

among geeks, it is a thing that just rocks!