An untold ambiguity
grips me this day.
Will it or will it not?
creates a panic.
Emboldened eyes keep going out
and coming back, I try to overcome,
“Word is my honour”, I whisper,
how am I going to cross?
Sanity deserts fingers feel
the brunt as I press them hard,.
Fighting with the inferiors
causes a desperation.
Will I overcome? Would I succeed?
I silently weep hiding my tears.
Resolve to adopt measures
smooth, hard, harsh and forceful.
“Sama, thana, petha, thanda”
the Sanskrit saying offers rescue
Decided I get back to work
“No more crying: I say to myself.