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.
