Oh what grieves you, zamindaar saab,
sitting lonely in a wine shop?
It's dark, there are no more buses
at the bus stop.
Oh, what grieves you, zamindaar saab,
with red intoxicated eyes?
The sun is hiding, replaced by
bulbs ringed by flies.
I see The Hindu in your hand
with a picture and headlines too
"Garima's last dramatic bow
but with no crew."
I met a lady on the stage,
with powdered face and instant smiles
that captured the hearts, souls of all
those within miles.
She danced and sang with everyone,
men, women with grace and passion,
transfroming into roles with no
hesitation.
But on the ground with mask aside
I was the only man in her life.
And after courtship she agreed
to be my wife.
Setting foot into my journey,
gliding in like a fantasy,
she took my bed and half my shelves
and all of me.
Everyone around us whispered
her profession was a taboo,
and into society she
could not break through.
But at first she had me in thrall,
I watched her every day on stage
It was slowly that the time came
to turn the page.
She was a formless cloud in sky,
that you can see but cannot hold.
She was slipping through my fingers
fast, uncontrolled.
I wanted her to be my wife,
the mother of my only child
and not the heroine the world
loved and exiled.
I began to hate her passion
that divided her love for me,
I began wanting for her
to not be free.
Flirtations were now discussions,
then discussions became debates,
soon arguing until every
word irritates.
My mother’s words were in my head
and I used them as an excuse,
to disguise my insecurity
that didn’t diffuse.
One day " your duty is to me
it's my words you have to abide
my needs that are priority"
in rage, I cried.
Her fist clenching her pallu was a silent simmering reply.
She was not going give up her
job and comply.
Our love evaporated in
liquor, stage lights and bitterness
leaving her surrounded by people
but still kinless.
Just before I caught her wings she
flitted away like a butterfly,
from a cocoon into a flat
it was goodbye.
Few months later, until I saw
The Hindu I had no clue,
that she had left not just my house
but this world too.
And this is why I’m sitting here,
with red intoxicated eyes.
Although there are no more buses
at the bus stop.

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