Wednesday, April 15

People

My brother called
And we got
Talking.
I told him
During our
Brother- Sister
Babble,
Of
One more
Friend
Whose
Marriage
Went berserk.
(It was never
Right to begin with
)

A very bad
Story.

My brother
Heard me
As usual
( Must have
Tilted his head
Dropped it
Like a schoolbag
On one side
Like
He did
When he was
A boy.
Now, he is a
Man.
He pays
The bills.
Runs the
kitchen.)



My brother
Had a
question
Like all brothers
Have.
(They have
a very matter-
Of- fact
Way
Of making
You feel
Nothing
Without your
permission)


My brother
Asked me
Why is it
That all
Your friends
Have stories ?

They are either
Child abused,
Or had parents
Who fought,
And fought.
When they grew
Up, most
Didn’t find
Love
money
Or friends
How come they
Are either
Single
Or divorced
Or better
On the
Couch ?

How come
You only
attract
these
emotional
Midgets?

I told
My brother
The first thing
About people
They are like
An envelope
From
The bank
With a secret
ATM code
You scratch
The surface
And you get
The combination

You can
See the
account balance
hence forth.
The gradual
withdrawals
Of love
Over time
The credit
Of pain
With all
Attempts
The debit
of spirit
Every day.

Its upto
You
If
You want
To know
These
Transactions
Or
You chose
To delude
Yourself
With
The envelope

My brother
Called me a
Peeping Tom
And hung
Up.
( Can I ever
Have the last
Word ?)

1 comment:

shikha said...

is it importsnt to have the last word....ever?