When I look around, things look dim
Companies are planning to cut jobs
Varun Gandhi is planning to cut hands
The scenario is grim.
I flick on my notebook
And start my day
I long for those inane mails with “Fwd Fwd Fwd
-Begin Your Day with a Smile”
With disconnected pictures of
A chocolate cake, a baby’s face, bunch of flowers, and a sunset,
Interspersed with obtuse, earnest pleas like
‘Take a minute to ponder on the million promises a baby’s smile brings?’
But all I get are heart-breaking emails
“I lost my job” or “I had to sell my home”
Or , “I am at my wit’s end.”
Goals are being re-defined
So, are definitions themselves.
Careers, Dreams and Aspirations
Are Jobs, Hopes and Needs.
What was that noise?
Did I shatter the glass ceiling?
Oh! It was Prithvi
And what used to be the center table.
I watch news on TV: flashing gloomy failing organizations
When Nikki comes to me with a sketch
Of the Digestive System
Asking me the difference
Between anus and rectum.
And then the sudden awareness
That my babies are my happiness
They define my existence
In these times of turbulence
Maybe I am so disturbed
That I resorted to write in verse
Forgive me if they are stupid
And if you get them, mark me the gist!