Once: long long ago
We used to creep a lot
Belly-aching, begging for a choice
And that's the test of freedom
So would people say.
Times changed, somehow, as if on cue
Lo, here you are
Your telly has arrived at last
Kaleidoscopic, crisp, captivating and cuddly
Every pixel to emerge from all dimensions
At your service, and go, feast your eyes on it
It’s your choice after all, fulfilling your wish.
Past is a picture: the reel story
Present is a picture too: the real story
Future is a sketch: a picture in making
Where can you find the real world?
The shadow is now the real thing.
Look! How fast choice matures!
Monotony, too hard a lump to melt
Moments merge into hours, and hours into days
Sagas unfold, endless, of quarrels and contests,
No longer relents the evil, the plot convoluted
And hanging down the cliff…what next?
Farce to follow the gossip and the point dissipates.
Know a lot, to forget what you know
No longer, it’s willing deferral of disbelief
Now, how easy it is to doubt everything!
Eyes bleary, night beckons to stay awake
There’s a picture before you to see and believe.
A. N. Nanda