A Slice of My Life
A poem on existence and experience.
Here you go, I give you a tiny
Slice of my life — sweet and sour,
Frosted with spicy savours,
Layered by the flavours of
Opioid and the texture
Of Bitter gourds.
I have observed the events of
My life keenly and chronicled
Them in my diary:
Like, that thin film of light
Shining annoyingly through
The gap between a
Set of lazily drawn curtains;
That particle of dust sneaking
Inside my eyes, or the
Falling eye-lashes
Creating the same effect
As the former.
My hiding like a bumblebee
Inside a flower’s soft walls,
And suddenly fleeing,
In the trembling wind,
To escape notice or capture.
My crying like a Chinese cypress
Or a weeping birch — depressed.
Or trying to live a life
As alert as a spider
On its web, poaching a prey.
Or restraining the inner romantic
Escapist Ulysses in me
For I have been advised
To lead a life by the prudence
And profitability of compound interest.
All of those are decorated on my tray.
Taste it; the cutlery is ready,
The presentation, complete;
I invite you, my Masterchef,
To inspect this sous-chef’s
Life and deeds.
Halifax, 21.08.21






