Certainly everything about
the past was not hunky-dory
Our biggest pet peeve
those days
were those long nights
of forced vigil,
when the power cuts
so rampant,
robbed us of our perfect
restful sleep.
We would walk up and down
the terrace
on those hot sticky nights
when the mosquitos buzzing
in our ears
further salted our wounds
and the only relief came
from the constant motion
and we walked up and down
like automated zombies,
singing songs, playing
midnight Antakshari in
voices hoarse, devoid of sleep.
Wishing fervently and
disturbing the gods for this
small inconvenience,
and tying the corner of clothes
in whimsical superstitions.
Hoping, walking, fighting irritation,
singing, hoping, walking, singing!
Now exhausted, collapsing
in cane chairs or charpai,
trying to fan ourselves with
Palm leaf hand pankhis.
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