April 25, 2008

Ode to the odious octopus, encountered enroute to bangalore

This is to the anonymous guy who was our (me and hubby) seat-mate on our way to Bangalore. You would think cranky kids, squalling babies and snoring OTH people are a nuisance. Well, try this one out for size. He drove me nuts and I was so so damn bugged that me, ME, wrote a poem about it. Don't kill me once you read it (a couple of lines or the whole thing), coz I was depressed as hell and not too sane.

The Ode to the odious octopus
The silence of the night, dark and velvety, marred by a sigh,
deep and heartfelt, contemplating the end of the journey, that seems
no nearer than when I started. Hurry I say,
Hurry, coz my mind is ready to burst at its seams
I yearn for the blessed quiet, the restraint
that I am trying hard to find and keep
Before I punch, kick- do bodily harm,
to the fucking compulsive clucking creep.
My seat-mate, the ingrate, my fellow-traveler
of this empty endless sky
clucking and chak-ing away these glorious minutes
when peace and quiet should hold sway
of your mind and soul, living in the moment
forgetting about the imminent busy day
But no, every minute punctured by the inevitable cluck (chak)
I take a deep breath when all I want to do is
hurl him into the dark velvety void, the schmuck.

I know that your loved ones are waiting, unlike mine
worrying about the tardiness, of this beastly airline
Or maybe you are late, for an appointment you want to keep
So cluck not, every passing minute, my sore brain cells weep

Can you not sense the hostile stares, the fraying
tempers, that might turn into violence
if you don't stop mich-miching? Come on, are you not aware
that there is more beauty in silence?
Oh you idiot, stop it now, whatever reason you are doing
this for, for its more harm to you than me
Me, I Zen, and I will space out, but pray
what will you, uncouth stranger, gain out of this lunacy?
Your mind is not free to flit about
where you might find peace, beauty. But you continue
to cluck. In this silence, it is as bad as a shout.
I bear you no ill-will, but I hope that some day,
someone will come along - someone with less manners than I -
and that they will do it: give you your due,
and I pray, I pray that that someone will be I.

3 Comments:

Priya said...

heh heh :-D all your anguish is coming out in verse! :-)

if it's gonna get us more poems like this, then may you be blessed with many more fellow travellers like this one :-)

wolf counsellor said...

lucky chap, i never thought a poem could b written for someone rude

Vibhav Agrawal said...

No post for more than 1 month :O

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