of antiques and mammoth bones...
Aah! Those are what museums hold:
leftovers that suddenly grow precious
but she rests silently, frozen perfectly...
Wait! How do you know she's a she?
Her colours suggest her of being girlish
like pink satins are always flooding
the stores even when there's no bonus
wired to a common man's accounts...
She lies behind the glass,
of her kind she's the last-
a treasure is she titled
away from the smoky rains
that once drowned metros
and paddies, blind was mercy.
Her colour has weakened
as she longs for freedom
below the skies,
on the muds
out where air flies
be it a day or a night!
Her steel still shines,
a mistress of life,
respect kisses the glass
of the old but painted museum.
And she glitters in silvery
spine, robust and pretty
and....
Hey! Come again...
How do you know she's a she?
Please explain!
But you don't have a Moustache, Rupam!
ReplyDeleteI have always expected this question! That's where things grow interesting! There are two perspectives: one, the obvious and two, the broader.
ReplyDeleteONE: The obvious perspective concerns me as the Moustached Poet as I have adopted the name. Now, I do not have a moustache. That's an irony.
But surely, the name should stand for something apart from satire. Here, we find the second perspective.
TWO: In a broader sense, what does moustache generally symbolise in India? Manhood. With manhood comes power and responsibilities. So, anyone who dares to face life as he/she must be must be prized with a moustache! The Moustached Poet is an optimistic Indian who is sure to carry out his/her duties amidst evils.
You may read this introductory piece from my blog: http://themouspoet.blogspot.in/2015/02/the-moustached-poet-is-here.html
I am the Moustached Poet, but anyone can be! :)