Thursday, January 10, 2008

Flat Thoughts

Here’s my attempt at the verse form – for better or worse!

PROMISCUITY

On my red two-wheeler
I inched toward my final destination –
A tiny space high on cloud nine
Where, packed, we workers fine
Create knowledge for the West.

What’s this? I glance to my right,
A grand old lady who has seen better times
Is being violated, beaten, thrashed about.
Ahoy! I want to shout,
She has history in those plastered rooms.

Behind those old teak doors,
Lie secrets, safe with her.
Those days, they preferred a strong base,
Today, she merely looks out of place
In this anaemic, boxed-up world.

The next day I see
She’s wearing a metal skirt
Forced or willingly, I know not.
She seems all bruised, maybe she fought,
But all I can see now is her bent head.

She lies broken, distraught
She knows she must change now,
From chastity through the ages
To promiscuity, inevitably, in stages.
And families are already peeking under her skirt.

I shed a tear for her and ride away
Arriving at my eight-hour cage
Where a gas-filled tube
Controls my life in my cube
As I prepare palatable knowledge.

Down the road is a school
Where kids come for the food
far from palatable, you know.
The knowledge however, is even less so
And what do I do about it?

As my three-month stint is over,
I will start trawling job sites
looking for the next highest bidder.
The best offer I’ll consider
on my way to selling what I’ve got.

When I see the old woman these days
She looks younger, much younger,
She stands tall, not hunched back.
She’s shed her clothes, like she’s back on track.
She seems a maiden metamorphosed.

When she looks at me
With all those eyes
I feel she knows my soul by now
And sensing a kindred spirit somehow,
Sheds that tear running along her side.


I recently realized that I hardly see new houses in the city – they’re invariably flats. As I rode to work one morning, I saw men demolishing this house, one of the very few on that street – I was struck by an inexplicable feeling of loss. This was born out of that.

Hope you enjoy this. Please do leave comments.

3 comments:

RAJI MUTHUKRISHNAN said...

I too feel like you and that flat - shedding a silent tear for the houses gone by.

A very sensitive piece of writing.

Absolutely Serendipitous said...

Brilliantly written and I totally relate with this. Every time a builder approaches my dad….for my granny’s 80 plus old house in Mysore, his BP shoots up.

Munchmany said...

Beautiful..