Hope in a Tattered Cloth

An appetite is a costly thing.
For life? Oh, it’s more.
It’s easy to find why tragedy wears such a
commonplace bearing, and hope?
Who knows what it wore.

But, I have lost all my appetite
And hope? I saw her eons ago.
In a time when she was coarsely drawn up and-
Tottering; though her face still glowed.

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In Praise of My Father’s Adam’s Apple

An old Adam’s apple glistened on my father-
My old father- on my father’s old throat.
After a shave, after a save; after he came back from the hospital, after all concerned had lost all their hope
and then, regained.

My Adam’s apple glistens too in the morning light
(like father, like his son?)
After I shit, bath, brush, floss and shave.
To pull a long day and a quieter one too as one pull the wools over one’s eyes
and get drowned in the matinee’s terrific irony-
Why, that is my usual business.

I wonder what I will regain.
His mullishness, perhaps?
Before the end of the time and before the end of
my elongated days.


The Football Story

I met my friend on the way to the market. My luck!

“Did you watch the last football world cup?” he asked. A real ancient man!

“I did”, I said under the breath.

“Who were you supporting?” he asked with a smile.

Smug smile, smug smile. I hate his smug smile.

-“No one in particular, I was just watching.”

– “Oh, then you missed something! Taking side is so much fun!”

I had to raise my eyebrows, “How come?”

“The anticipation. Till your team takes the field. The excitement when
they make a move. The disappointment when they lose. The hope that comes
right after the disappointment: All very interesting.”

“Loss is not very interesting, I can say.” I mumbled a protest.

“Yes, it is! The fluctuation of emotions is all we need. The rest is stale.” he said.

“How can I support someone I don’t know much about?” I was still trying to hold my ground.

– “Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter.” He nodded his big head.

β€œIt could be like, the hairstyle or the free kicks of Forlan. Or your solidarity towards the African people. Or just that, you worshipped Maradona a decade ago. The hangover continues.”

There was no hope that this conversation would be short.

– “Hey, did you see, how were they gushing about Spain in the newspapers after the final? 5 reasons why Spain is the best etc. etc.”

– “Well, Spain is the champion.” I didn’t know what was coming.

– “How come, they didn’t mention those 5 reasons after the first round debacle? It was not very safe then, I guess.” He smiled with satisfaction.

I kept myself quiet.

“So, fluctuations of emotions, bias towards the successful and reason inventing: remember those. We thrive on them.” he was going away from me.

“I don’t like quasi-intellectual friends who lecture me on the road. You remember that too.” I hollered.

I looked around.

He was not there.