were you there when i was born?
i don't know, nor i think you do...
no one has then ever told me anything about you
may be, the lights over the operation table
where my mother waited in pain, swallowed you
or rather, on one noticed you, lurking under the light....
but you were there, i know for sure
when did i meet you for the first time, do you remember?
was it on the daylight, when you play hide & seek?
or when the sun ritually had to cast off its light?
or when the tantalising silver disc was too mischievous
that i had to scurry to my mother
to river me with her lullabies.. i don't remember...
over the years, when i grew up, as they say
you were there, always, either left or right,
sometimes in my front or back...
too long or too short, sometimes
too fat, or too thin, many times
most of the times, threateningly invisible
like the Christian god...
why the hell do you follow me
or rather i do follow you?
i don't know, really...
when you grow so big
i smell the big mushroom in the sky in my history book
that always made me puke, in pain
why the hell don't you get out of me
may be like the tic tic sound that left for ever
from that broken clock, in that August morning..
even then aren’t you a fucking winner,
and me the loser, being eaten by worms
silently in the infamous six feet mud?
the curse i will never outgrow.
why don't you leave me alone
why don't you leave me alone.....