The Unadorned

My literary blog to keep track of my creative mood swings with poems n short stories, book reviews n humorous prose, travelogues n photography, reflections n translations, both in English n Hindi.

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I'm a peace-loving married Indian male on the right side of '50 with college-going children, and presently employed under government. Educationally I've a master's degree in History, and another in Computer Application. Besides, I've a post graduate diploma in Management. My published works are:- (1)"In Harness", ISBN 81-8157-183-5, a poetry collections and (2) "The Remix of Orchid", ISBN 978-81-7525-729-0, a short story collections with a foreword by Mr. Ruskin Bond, (3) "Virasat", ISBN 978-81-7525-982-9, again a short story collection but in Hindi, (4) "Ek Saal Baad," ISBN 978-81-906496-8-1, my second Story Collection in Hindi.

Sunday, October 06, 2013

In Debt

A long span of ten years have passed since I wrote this poem. This is one among the fifty-one poems I included in my book "In Harness". Now, when I revisit this, I feel there's something wistful I was trying to express through the words and by the imagery scattered all over it. I'm not sure if I would be able to explain them all word by word for the simple reason that I don't remember them, but still I relive the creative spark as I go through the poem. Successful poetry is not to be understood in the same manner by everybody: even without following its diction in toto if it is still enjoyable, it can be said to be a successful composition. That's why no poet worth his salt would like to edit his poem after lapse of time, for the meaning would change in the process and the whole thing would fall out of tune. That's how I feel revisiting my poem.
The autumn sky welcomes
the glorious moon,
A few bright lucky stars
finally make it up to the firmament,
Many hang about and others trail behind
They all aspire to be accommodated
by new moon, if not now.

 Wearing her cherubic smile, the girl
 at the doorstep of her teens
comes to greet me the other day
at Pattayya beach,
She has her wares, ready to offer,
A tattoo of Bin Laden,
I do not offer to buy
She has already bought me then.

The scullery boy lifts
a few pieces of finger chips
And munches them all
before he cleans the soiled plates,
They were all the leftovers
of unknown patricians
meant for the slaves of circumstances.

A dream of a million
appears again for the millionth occasion,
She has always been a lovable virgin
needing plenty of delicate gestures
to consent anybody who would pine for her,
She obliges me when I solicit her
She asks me no questions
I volunteer none either.

It is a lovely feeling to be in debt,
Debt leads to a rebirth,
The salvation is shelved for a future date,
It takes hundreds rebirths to liquidate
what one owes at present.
A N Nanda



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