Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Just a small preface to this one. Usually I never write qualifiers for my poems. I believe the strength of a poem lies in its relationship with its reader. So I may be writing about what I think I'm writing about but u maybe living it in a different manner. But this one is special.
I wrote this one when I was 15 I think. It is completely autobiographical and happened to me when i was all of 10 and living in a place called North Tees in England with my parents. My parents are Doctors and both of them used to work in a hospital which was next door. There was a library in this hospital and I used to live there. There was a candy shop right next to the library and I used to buy these amazing mice shaped white chocolate candies from there. And , on one such Monday I met racism.........

10 Pence for Innocence

I see

Juicy white mice,
10 pence each.
Of course
In the corner shop,
In the hospital,
Where my father worked.

I Want

A blue-white Monday
Full of tang,
Walking with eager steps,
Tasting the anticipation
Of biting into each mice,
So deliciously sweet.
I felt it
Before I heard it.
Spit on my face
That too,
In my domain.
Infront of my corner shop,
In the hospital
Where my father once worked.

I Act

The heart of a child
It knows not what to fear
I fretted about my mice
But, stoically stood my ground.
Rubbed the spit on my face
With the tears that fell.

The strength of
An audacious dewdrop
Hanging on for dear life.
The ego of a blemish,
A tear
The might of its mere existence
To clash

I, still,
Bought my mice
Before walking away.

I Know

TodayI still taste the mice
BeforeI feel the pain
The logic of a child,
Not always in vain…
It stillIs the hospital
Where my father worked
My father did not change
Does home ever change?
A part of me,
A heartbeat away


Rajeev Sinha said...

Its very touchy and it tells a lot about you.
I believe it has changed your life for ever...

for good

Abhigyan said...

finally i got one of ur poems...i guess a bit more factual to facilitate my comprehension.

wld luv it if i can ever get poetic in my expressions

Mukul said...

Popat Singh, aisa hee dhyan aur lagan agar apne swasthya pe bhi deti to ash tumhare saamne paani bharti, susmita tere liye paan parag kharid ke laati