If you believe in freedom of belief
And believe in your own God too
You should believe in my having
The right to believe in Nothing, yet
By calling me names as an atheist
You exhibit unbelief as a humanist.
Now I’m old
Cannot do it right or for long hold
Yet with a surprise
Faced with the invite
To deflower
Was vested with superpower.
I was clever enough
So could cheat at ease
Everyone else
Save me
As I could not but be
At the receiving end.
A long list of those yet to be done
For the untidily done it’s a longer one
Too long to remember, barring the one
That lists what shouldn’t have been done
That never ever erased from memory
For those cannot ever be undone.
Doused with a profuse dose of perfume
Insolently choking with the hefty odor
All men and women of today
Smell the same as they pass by
Yet only for a while
Then turn unscented.
I have only regrets
For all my deeds and mistakes
As I messed it up all in my life
With weal and woe and strife
As the food platter tastes drab
Sans spice also with ones bad.
I have no regrets
For all my deeds and mistakes
As I lived a full life
With weal and woe and strife
As the food platter tastes nice
When served with exotic spice.
The perfect should feel happy
Be that a he or a she
When others do like, not envy
And if to emulate too do they try
Bringing joy and pride
For others only; and worthy to survive.
‘Stray Birds’ of Tagore, a righteous poet laureate
Composed with noble will and wide open intellect
Torn into pieces by the wild fang of Feng Tang
A vagrant ignoble Chinese in the guise of retelling
Into a literary form, thrived only in shaping it
Into a vulgar ritual of art with all its perversion.
Emile Zola created Nana
Hemingway her Catherine
Kept alive till the avid readers
Were hooked to all their charms
Both were meted with certain death
So they were never ever left to forget.
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