Drying my hands in the ends of
my sari, I enter the parlour from
the kitchen. Just in time the mobile goes.
Annuar, my former chauffeur,
breaks down sobbing.
As being my habit, I cut theline
and call him back, I do not wish
my staff to pay for the call.
He tells for days he has been
eating only once a day.
He is an entrepreneur.
What could have happened?
The pandemic and the lockdown
have ruined life, one inflicts
illness, the other deprives
the spirit. Man at his wit’s end.
Meenas Poems 