An Old Poem of Mine

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[This is an old poem of mine. It reads a bit like a teenager's composition for his school magazine, yet I like it, even if I had left my teen long behind. This I included in my book of poem collections "In Harness", published in 2004 with an ISBN numbering as ISBN 81-8157-183-5. I'm sharing it here in my bid to relive the feeling I felt while writing this.]

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Lovely Letter

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If I go near you
At an ice cream parlour
Or at a bus-stop-Q
Or at a card gallery
Or at a gift shop
Or just near a theatre entrance,
Will you spot me?
Will you notice me?
Or will you ignore me
Like you do to the hundreds in the crowd
Those throw their lusty stare
On your buttery face?

If I loiter in the lonely pathway
Beside your lofty apartment
In a December chilly morning
In my red fur cap and blue sweater
With hands pressed close to chest
Singing a movie song in a chaotic scale
And tapping my boot on uneven concrete,
Will you gently remove
Your window curtains
At least for the sunlight sake
And take a sweet notice
Of my little audacity and me?

In a crowded city bus
Spotting a vacancy near you
If I beg your sweet permission
To inhale your lavish perfume
And venture an intimacy closer,
Will you throw your gorgeous smile
And nod your silky head in style
To make my day lucky and oblige?

Waiting in vain for the last bus on route
At late night on your way back home
If I per chance come across you
And propose to share a taxi
And offer to give company up to your home
But timidly keep mum throughout,
Will you call me your home?
Or vanish from my dreamy view
Saying a short '' Thank U’’?

If I reach your home
As an uninvited fellow
Hesitatingly, with a red rose
On your next birthday
When you are still busy with your plaits
Chatting with your bosom friends sitting around,
Will you come near the door to receive
Stretching your hands so silky
Generously smiling between the sensuous dimples
To inhale the rose and make me comfortable?

If this small letter
Incensed with rose water
Sketching a red heart on its top
Containing a bundle of unmixed nonsense
Lucky to reach your creamy palm,
Will you really read it alone
When all around have finally gone
And keep it hidden beneath your frock
Close to your warm bosom
Deep inside your pinkish cleavage?

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By
A. N. Nanda
Originally Written at
PORT BLAIR
22 / 11 / 1995
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