For a shop that sold cigarettes. The one
I encountered gave a tinkering feeling inside of me
And the beautiful creasy outfit appeared
You are now in a brighter place
With tall buildings and bridges.
No longer shrouded toxic egos
Of a town so small.
Where white collared uncles
Take pride in getting drunk,
Splashing cash and crushing
The rest with their macho ways.
Where retired lonely parents
With big bungalows,
Flaunt about their kids
In a faraway fluorescent land.
Where casteist auntys’ still
Carry on rhetoric debates
About religion and menstruation
And what not.
They even try to hear
When one is romancing
When one is not
And prophesise incoming babies.
The family expands
And young women and men
Join the new ranks.
Some smell of cheap whiskey
And some of cheap affairs.
Garbed under mouth fresheners,
Concealed under muted past.
The good sons and daughters are
The typical hypocrites and pretenders.
Anyone else who tries to reform
Gets mocked and yelled at.
The establishment tells you
“Go back to your big-big town”
“We are better off without you”.
The one who never left
Is the unlucky scapegoat
He runs errands, attends weddings
The only visitor in the hospital
He is the man on speed dial.
The poor little fucker
The Messiah of the bygones.
In all of this and all of that
You go back once in a while
Like a tourist with cool shades
And Instagram stories of delight.
What was once your everything
Is still the same.
Yet, you can do nothing….
People seem like portraits
The servants you played with
Got so grey and old.
But you don’t worry
For all of these troubles,
Save up your official leave.
When a granny or a relative dies
Or a court summons,
Please do visit.
And for your showbiz wedding
Book in advance, you selfish twat.
It’s 4 in the morning and I am brushing my teeth. Not because morning has arrived but my insomnia has ended.
A normal sleepless night had gone by. A Eddie Vedder song, Society played through the silent musings the night offered. My light was on though. A mere cheap bulb cannot contain the darkness that lies outside my comfortable room. The song ended; the cravings spurred. When the habit kicks, you stop enjoying things without the chemical stick. It becomes your crutch. The only hazard I have faced. They say there is more to follow. I have to go out now. The only trouble is the big hybrid dogs that guard the society of the residency. The happy people are asleep. My cyno-phobic heart struggles. I dared outside concurrently strolling aside a brave guy who wore an ID to work. He is allowed to walk this time because he is an unskilled labour and a cab awaits for him. The tea stall is nearby the road. I bought the sweet hot tea and the cheap stick. My fag reached the highway and vanished. The life changing moment I had wanted has not arrived as of yet. All I needed was to reach my lowest potential and strive towards resurgence. I don’t know how lower I need to go. I guess I have to make more holes in my belt. I am buying the cheapest stick these days.
Capitalism allows you to have the cheapest and the best. There is no lowest. It allowed me to enjoy the poison and the sweet tea. The only commodity it fails to enjoy is Love, an optimism to end this tiredness. The greatest ambition. Once it takeovers love, it will be launched in series, Love 7 Love 8s and differently same versions would follow. At this moment, we are safe. We can pursue. We can wait.
My smoke is about to end and the dirty part of tea gulped. I have to go back to my room. There is sadness when things end even if it is happy loneliness or a cup of tea. I think this useless morning contemplation won’t change anything. I will still be the same hypocrite with a low moral code for other people. I will still fail to pursue my greatest ambition. I will still walk with my head low.
But I don’t fear the night dogs like before.