Eventually, it has to happen
so saying the years have fled
not one or two as one would expect
it is a full twenty years.
Nothing much has happened either
being the routine that of a day in and day out
the eating and sleeping that overwhelms
accompanied by gossips insensible.
Saying so, I look at myself in the mirror.
A lot has happened to me all these years
Grey hair is predominant with tired eyes
along with a slow walk rounder in the middle.
The spirit to achieve is there no more.
A relaxation has set in. I sit and stare.
It is an easy way out. The days roll
I would be around for a few more years.
The hot Malaysian sun
pierces through me with force
sneaks into every bone and nerve.
I stay indoors. The sun like mad
peeps through the windows.
Burns my front and back. I am roasted.
I drink pints of plain water, tender coconut in litres
I long for more. Mild irritation sets in
Thirst numbs my spirit. I am half dead.
The heat resembles a red flame. It reflects on the roads
which transmit excessive brightness
I shy away from seeing the sun. I am scorched.
The Sun is both a giver and a destroyer.
Bestows man with resources too many.
Plunders him of his sustainability. Have pity on him!
The fecundity of the land invigorates.
Unable to leave and go elsewhere.
I stay back in the land. I am a fortune seeker.
The long years, I have lived
seem to be shorter than the years
I have to live.
Those years, now a past
I had my hands full,
much at home, but tied up.
These years, while I live
nothing much of a work
but, I run from one end to the other.
It is to me very odd.
I sense an insensible feel
makes me dull and dreary.
I pull on with a weariness
greatly out of the world
keeping myself to myself.
A sensation deliberate surfaces
wish to withdraw fully from all
like to stay in a place far away.
Afraid, I would miss my lovely home
Alas! it is the only string that holds,
be it how long I do not know.
Not much can be done
even for fun.
I slip into a reverie
I feel dreary.
A turn I expect
being not in the prospect.
I sit crossed
I have to pause.
Is it my life in short
it being the way I am caught.
I see a light
twinkling and bright.
It seems to come near
I pick up fear.
It approaches quiet fast
I stand petrified
as it passes by my side.
What is it? I wonder.
pulled apart by a fierce asunder.
I turn apprehensive
in a state of defensive.
My panic is insensible
find no preamble.
It is a light of a Mercedes
created in me an abyss.
Those of whom know very little
act as they know everything.
Those of whom know very much
behave as if they know nothing.
This is how the world is made off
with knowledge and ignorance
one balancing the other,
could be a strange version.
These idiosyncrasies of men keep me agog
as I watch the play of them in roles different
one who knows less being flamboyant
the other with an acumen looks demur.
Uphill on the road
downhill down the lane,
a struggle as seen
causes a distraction
all too many.
Both need an effort
the upward is tedious
the downward is easy
realises risks and tasks
all too many.
Up I climb breathless
down I go in a full breath
being the lessons I learn
while reaching the top
along with a fear
not come down.
The little we do
day in and day out
comprises nothing else
being the ones we see,
that we hear and talk
with them we reach
the points of life.
Those of which we see
could be the stars,
be they the pebbles,
might be the flowers.
as well as the shrubs
anything that is in one’s purview.
That which we hear
could be a melody
else be one of a shout
jarring and noisy,
might be an oratory
or an empty talk
all that could fall on the ears.
Being the principles of our speech
one relying on truth, the other
lying on the hearsay.
The sensory organs play a role vital.
Being the responsibility of the brain
to find out the good from the bad
Mona is into cooking.
Knows not much of it
somehow or other.
She cuts vegetables.
One big and one small.
Peels onions. Tears flow down.
Chops them with an effort.
Pressure cooks the vegetables.
They turn soft and are in a jumble.
The rice is overcooked.
Her lunch is a whole mess.
Hungry she becomes. In haste,
she mixes the vegetables with rice.
Gobbles. It has a quaint taste with a burnt smell.
The one she has not tasted before.
Resting for a while. She improvises
She attempts again. More cautious.
Her preparation turns delicious.
She is proud.
Days go by. Mona has mastered cooking,
She is a culinary expert. She is much in demand.
Her book “Cookery For The beginners”. is a top seller.
Mona has found her distinct voice.
Into the world of dreams
I wish to swim for long
like not to touch the real.
it is a pleasure all the way
I being at the top of the world
presiding with grace.
I hear no voice raised
it is absolute obeisance
I am all so powerful.
I eat what I like
all set in my table
courses after courses served.
I sleep whenever I want
none to nag or intrude
a lovely repose.
it is music all around
played in earnest
to keep me happy.
i see myself as an angel
blessed and held in esteem
gracious in bearing.
Am I a cynosure of all eyes?
The envious stare at me.
I revel and rejoice.
It is only for a few moments,
I know pretty well. Being precious,
they revive and rejuvenate
keeping me fit and poised.