He said, “Don’t tell your mom.” Was the first lesson I remember from my father.
He took me to this place, shady and dark, with only laughter of men.
Thought of the shooting of ‘Men will be Men’ of those eras would be going on.
I couldn’t figure out what it was until we sat & my father told me to taste it.
If I wanted to taste it, I would have. But, he insisted me to taste it.
I took a sip and it tasted like feet. I did my bad face.
He then said, “Don’t tell your mom.”
I always wanted to have one look, that one look
That one glimpse, one stare, one glance, from
The other side of the shelf in the library.
I am a reader and I always weave story because
I guess it actually don’t happens to us, does it?
I go & scroll the rows and columns of books
I lean through the thick and thin holes
Through which only a sleek of light could peek
But, it passed, it passed, pretty enough
To make an eye contact that takes them forward,
Further and far to the future.
I always imagine how the world would stop
Behaving, speaking, listening, and seeing
How the earth wouldn’t rotate and sun wouldn’t revolve.
I just don’t know
How the romantic eyes would glitter on the other sides of 1000 romantic stories written and crossing their boundaries.
I am sure it must be delightful.
I gave him my old ear plugs
It’s my birthday, he said
Actually I don’t remember my birthday, he said again
Yes, I don’t know my birth date, he said sadly.
But, happily again, he continued looking at me,
I will celebrate today and this date onwards as my birthday
Because for the first time in my life,
Somebody gave me something.
That’s how the birthdays today are celebrated, right?
I speak nothing. He paused and thanked me for the old gift
Which will bring a new life to him.