A strange creation of God is Man.
And bizarre are his ways that
We often say as Lord’s will.
But Man is strange still,
And stranger are his ways that
None other but only another
Man, and only a Man catch.
My neighbour, a respectable one
Past 50’s and settled with a job,
Family, son and a grandson
House, flat, bank balance and all.
But age spares none
And he is no exception.
A recent fractured limb
Got him a supporting crutch.
And man is the complaining child
That he always is.
So, similar is the case
With my gentleman here.
Now he laments his age
And clings to things dear.
Well the evening was nice
The sky was clear
Setting sun coloured the scatter
Of the clouds few here and there.
The eve was now already spiced
With the flavours of the Frieds down the corner.
Mmm...I’ll go down and get a chicken chop
And an egg roll from the shop at opp.
Yes here he comes , I can see.
He’s got a load filled with onions,
There are potatoes and other things as well.
Now he stops just below my balcony,
Gets down from the rickshaw-van
Off to the shop three blocks far
To the mobile recharge man.
And now I see my neighbour come round
He, who had been sitting on his flat stairs
And was watching the evening stares.
He was casual, saw this way and that
And picked up not one, not two but
A handful of onions!
Smarted into his pockets fast
And walked to his stairs and sat
As if nothing had happened as a fact!
