Let me comb my hair
To the back of my head
Wear the long sleeved white shirt
Fold the sleeves up to the arm
Put on a vermillion mark on the face
Exactly between the eyes
(unfortunately I do not have
any wound on this spot)

Let me also wear a loose pant
Fold the bottom by an inch

I also need to cut down on my paunch

I can imitate him by doing all these
Physical appearances
Can I get his cool?
The recluse look in his eyes
The detached forlorn attitude
Of a village boy who never
Could urbanize

Marriages are made in heaven
And performed by uncles and aunts
Bound to have repercussions
Children grow to be parents
Knowingly and unknowingly
They carry their fantasies

He never shared his mind
Never spoke of his angst and happiness
Followed the mores to the core
Did not object to the changing tides
Death of father
Division of family
Melted fortunes
Experiment of kith and kin with their lives
Dreams turning sour

Sorrows of yester years
Complexities of bygone time

Many a cross road in life
His pocket was always heavy with
Book of hymns, irrelevant pieces of papers
No much cash

Wish I know him better
With maturity of age
I could have sought help
Unraveling magic of detachment
Strength of carrying the fire within.

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