A fortune teller is at the door.
Dressed in a garb,orange predominant
stripes of green and blue dots
make him look weird.
Amma, “I will tell you
what is in store? Will predict
with exactitude. Trust me”,
he pleads.
I bid him to go away.
I am not interested to know
the future as I am not keen
to know the present.
Life moves on with a fall back,
overthrows, crosses and settles
as the tide recedes. Nothing
spectacular will happen.
I have been in a continuous trial.
Struggles are part of my existence
so are the gratifications.
This is how I behold.
The fortune teller turns back.
Understands my status.
At last for once I am not carried away
by compassion.
Fortunate, I have never been.
tribulations wash me ashore.
I wade against the flood.
That has been my course.
Meenas Poems 