Wealth

Walking along the memory lane,
delving and ducking into its deep alleys,
I realise how the world has changed,
and I can't help smiling and feeling avenged.

Long back -
When my small feet trudged on others' paths,
they rebuked me good and fine.
And I thought they were right,
cos I had none to be known of as mine.

When I begged the beggar, for a morsel of food,
he called me names and slapped me more than once.
And I thought he was right,
cos I was always 'the fool' or 'the dunce'.

When I stole some bread at the baker's,
they became ruthless, and locked me with the horses and hay.
I still thought I was wrong,
and started off on my way.

I flew on to reach new heights, to places
from where the world looked fun.

Now -
The baker wants my name on his bread
and those of them come and pat my back,
who had never cared to set me right
when I had trod the wrong track.

Love is now being proffered on a platter,
tongues wag, and eyes are green with envy.
Today, I seem to have everyone,
and everyone wants me.

They're now sorry for their rebukes,
they say their hands ache from the slap.
And should I utter a word now,
the same hands shall shamelesly clap.

They try to disguise their contempt in wide smiles
and I am suddenly very happy.
I bear no hatred, their fate shall doom them,
the scars they have left on me shall surely ruin them.

Ah, Wealth!!! Thou art miraculous.

18XI00

Spilt Milk

The sun peeps over the horizon
reluctant to awaken the world
this winter morning.
My sun has already set,
and drowned, deep into the oceans.

The cool breeze ruffles my hair
and sends shivers down my spine,
rekindling past memories;
when similar winds
had dug up long buried questions.

The dust has long settled on the floor.
I'm aware, and yet I don't dare sweep it.
For, the cords have frayed,
and the beams are rusty
and will not bear, if the dust rises again.

Sparrows chirp around my bare house,
exploring quiet rooms and eerie hallways.
Dawn to dusk, this arboreal cacophony
echoed by the barrenness,
is my only company.

The orange red evening sun makes his entry
spreading golden light
across the cobwebs of my house,
and that of my heart,
and slides down, laughing at the irony.

27XI00