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January 28, 2017

January 28, 2017

January 28, 2017

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An Excerpt from an Upcoming Novel

January 28, 2017

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Paritosh

January 27, 2017

 

Picking my nose, scratching my head,

With a batted face, biting my nails,

 I shut down my brain,

Day’s office is over again.

 

I pass by a public lavatory,

Without grimacing my face.

Patched by hawkers,

Nagged by assorted beggars,

The pavements are littered,

Nothing exclusive.

 

Standing at the bus stop

Three pass.

Finally the numbers match.

I become 81st

In “ to seat 65’s”

Omnibus.

 

Stamped by a metal heel,

Knocked by a purse,

Cornered by a virile elbow,

My mammoth body least deserved.

 

The bus

From filled to loaded

To packed becomes;

A young boy and a beautiful girl

Get on to the bus.

 

Chivalrous he, accommodates her cozy,

Armoring her to a safe corner,

Protecting her from the libidos

Of this whimsical society, ultra busy.

 

She’s comforted , quite secured,

He… hangs…. pole to door.

His eyes sparkle with love.

Her face glows with a blush.

 

Who other than me can empathize

And better know,

For once, even I was young;

And dreamy enough to be in love.

 

But her tantalizing face

Mesmerized a better prospect;

I’m glad, now she’s well settled.

Me – ? Still thus.

 

Got my sister married last year,

Ailing mother lying at home,

Brother prospering abroad,

Then----- it boils down to a full stop.

 

My eyes fall onto her face.

Me –? It nostalgic makes.

Silly she, thinks herself ogler’s delight;

Another snigger at my face.

 

She starts conversing with the lady next.

It begins with some rapist’s name.

Then, in broader spectrum –

 

We are chauvinistic, vindictive men.

 

She eyes me, once or twice;

Gosh!!! I was gazing! I realize.

My fantasy….. how could she see?

Those even my lady despised?

 

She and the lady by her side,

Call men like me Caliban like.

Frustrated.

A taboo on life.

 

Moreover,

Human evolution has cycled

To the era of artificial intelligence,

Here even truth is customized.

And my colleagues teach their children

Trust no hand, trust no eye.

 

 

In this age,

Who would believe

That I… at forty,

Only fell in love and vied?

 

Pooh! All that I can do

Is eke out a sigh.

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