Thursday, 29 March 2018


Photo Credit: Hyde Park Poetry, Thursday Poets Rally week 86

I am waiting for her, a lady-beauty, to meet first,
When evening is emblazoned with flood lights,
The street is busy, cars, taxies, AC, non-AC buses,
Pedestrians make way through running vehicles,
And at the time of meeting in this road-crossing,
One young lady just appears before me, from crowd,
And says, “Madam will not meet you, Sir,
She is frightened; you have such a big tummy,
Odd looking against odd looking, so sorry she is.”

I return home, look at my body in the mirror,
Geometrical figure is not shaped, curved like the very
Alphabet ‘a’ with short legs, not attractive, disgusting,
I cannot control the pant, fitted with belt, not to slip out,
I go to doctor for working out how to shape, to build
A figure with manly curves, muscles, no pot belly,
It is to be a painting work on canvas by an artist.

Doctor just advices,
“You have to take small quantity of meals, two times,
A little tiffin, snacks, all to be nutritious, balanced food,
A cup of rice, veg curry, a lot of fish, salads, one apple,
One pomegranate, to be included in menu, and a little exercise.” 

Most food to be prepared at home, no restaurant food,
Not to eat from foot-path eateries, not to take much
Carbohydrates, only living protein to be eaten in home,
It is not easy to shape body like painting work of artist
Such body I do have immerges into breathing problem,
And it is like calling death before time that bears natural.

I am at a crucial point to break my body’s drowned fitness.