SON:
You never wanted me to succeed
You always thought I was not good enough
The questions and doubts you threw at me
Nothing was sacred to you
Not your wife or your family
If you never wanted us then why did you do it?
Give me an answer, scold me, push me away as you always did
Tell me, tell me father?
I once had a dream that I met my idols
The green light was on their faces
Clearer as daylight, I saw them
Kafka stranded aloof along with his father and the giant vermin on the shore
I felt Kafkaesque surrounding us all
Far away saw Hemingway rowing the boat calling me an old man who is still unsure
Dostoevsky lined up to get shot, smilingly told me, you’re an honest thief one day you will get caught
What do you see? – she whispers in his ears
He takes a deep breath and blows away the dust mustered across the bolted window. Keeping his crossed arms on it, he overlooks the ocean of habitation. Among the hustle bustle and the lazy Saturday afternoon commotion, he hesitates to answer.
Have you seen those eyes? – he whispers back
She unwraps the cigarette pack and lights one up
What do you mean? – she says gently in a nonchalant way
Eyes!
Have you seen it?
I sit in these 4 walls
Surrounded by all these big talks, posted on those 4 walls
All is in superlatives, nothing is mediocre
Only mediocrity which follows is the one from the breathing beings, roaming these office corners
I sit upright in the chair, arms rested, all suited, tip-toe till the hair
I see half of my face
After ages
Unrecognizable
Burnt
Whipped
Submissive
Turned into something ugly
An ugliness of times
A timid reflection of the day and signs
Eye is blood shot
Lips dry, thirsting for tonic
Lines on forehead looking like scattered and torn trenches
Two halves of one face
Flipping coins of pretence
Heads and tale, senseless and stale