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SUNIL SHARMA

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 2/15/2016 |




Libido

interlinked, interlocked
like the famous Matryoshka dolls.
Lottery comes by luck only and
we know this fact as the gospel truth,
yet we all secretly lust for that trove,
that windfall which is not rightfully ours!
We buy tickets, pray, fast and wish
hoping to change our beleaguered luck.

And who knows? It might be us. You cannot predict luck.

The results are waited with bated breath
earth ceases to spin and universe stops that moment
our hearts beat fast, gasping breath
but---
majority miss the lottery by a whisker!
Next day, riding on unfulfilled dreams,
frustrations of home/work/relationships
located in urban hells, the robots
living in a dull neighbourhood, a monochromatic life
bored to death within that slow-poison routine
wide-eyed we buy the next ticket, in series odd/even,
spending hard-earned money on big promises made on multi-colour brochures
and glossy ad- pictures of the jackpots and previous middle-class grinning winners.
Deep down, we all are lusting for that chance success---
fuelled by a common and civilizational lust
for elusive money that has a libidinal effect.
Sunil Sharma


Luck

After a gap of twenty years
Same spot, now overgrown
Rapidly
Like a preposterous teen.
He spots her there by chance
Standing near an overcrowded stall
On the edge of the narrow road
Crawling with rickshaws and pedestrians!
Eyes and the gestures, still the same
Everything else has changed.
They run into the other in the
Milling crowds shopping in that
Once-leafy lane, now bursting
With small shops and illegal extensions.
A full bazaar.
Her eyes lock with his for a
Lingering second but remain blank
His, reddening with unbidden tears and shame.


Lust

The eyes always animated
Dancing in the sockets---
The browns moving around
In a tiny cage.
A flight of a bird in a clear sky
Call of the nightingale heard
In an adjoining compound full of trees pregnant.
A rainbow spreading rich colours
Across the meadows distant
A fresh puddle reflecting the green.
The eyes that registered the lust for
Living in a hovel as a girl-child.
Now---
Unblinking
Glassy
In a body gone
Cold and blank.


[SUNIL SHARMA]

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