Truly Me


It is a heyday,
the calls and the answers
the pressure and the inevitable
check me.

I attend the screaming door bell.
attend to the whistles of the cooker
prevent the doors  from banging
play foil to the car honks.

I run to the porch
see an old friend.
I nod my head
lwith vigour. Funny I look.

Knot my unkempt hair
dry my wet hands
embrace my friend
with love.

She stares at me,
at my hair drawn up high
at my saree crushed,
at my stature .

She is in a trance
glances at me for a while,
Amused or bemused
I honestly do not realize.

She speaks
“Is it truly you?”
I wonder. She says
with a remorse.

Recalling  the days of yore. “You were
dressed immaculate,
was an expression of elegance,
now seem devastated”.

An accomplishment, I declare.
Messy and exhausted
I appear, but I enjoy
these days better.

Forgetfulness has set.
I miss the valuables.
place one over the other.
walk absent minded.

There is no less contentment
denounce myself,
laugh at my follies.
Am stupid.

Joyful I live
That is life more so.
I react with spirit
not with reason anymore.

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