Poem

So with the memories of Delhi (college holidays) still in my mind, here is a poem inspired from a situation in the Delhi metro.














The tale of two ladies

They sat on either end of the aisle,
Exchanged an ever so polite smile,
(The lady on my left), had a look of wonder,
(Perhaps she thought), could she ever be like the one seated yonder.

A pair of netted stockings and a black leather pouch,
Accompanied by a low cut velvet blouse,
A shiny new silver mobile phone,
And a sparklin’ faux diamond brooch that shone.

On either hand there was a blue glove,
That covered the elbow and extended till a little above,
And then there was music on her i-pod’s ear phones,
(That to me seated beside her, sounded like a cacophonic drone.)

To complete it all there was red sling bag,
And a short blue jean, which was more of a rag.

Now I present the other maiden just as fair,
Perhaps she hailed from the dunes of the Thar.
She had big dangling silver rings on each ear,
And beautiful hazel eyes with a look so queer.

Atleast a fifty bangles adorned each tanned arm,
All in all it had a rustic village charm,
Her head was covered with the bright red choli she wore,
But her face was beautiful, of that I’m sure.

I imagine she felt,
A mixture of disapproval and admiration,
Disapproving the other girl’s poise,
Ánd her risqué attire,
But I’m think she was quite mired,
Because these were the very things she did admire

But as our little journey came to an end,
She too made her little conclusion.
‘Maybe in my English I falter,
And I do not wear such risqué clothes,
No doubt she is beautiful,
But I’m beautiful in my own way too!’
Mukund P Rao (July 22nd ’10)