Is slow today
That it is being waited for
But is coy, like love,
Hiding under carpets
And movie scripts
Plotting its release
Just in time for Christmas.
So it tries to get lost
Maybe like the bride and groom
Lifted on chairs in Mangalore’s weddings
One running after what he already has
One running away from what she already fears
It has its tricks down pat
Has learnt them from those slim books
That describe fluttering eyelashes
Three flutters per second.
So it will enlist the maid’s forgetfulness
And will end up in another’s apron
Or be used as a wedge,
Propping up the third stubby leg of an old table.
The weakest link in that old sack race.
Will it find its way
How do these things work?
Perhaps it knows
It will wound
And doesn't want to be the bad guy
It’s fated to be.
So it trips up the post-man
Slips into the secret compartment
Of a many-pocketed bag
Only meant for keys and spare pennies.
Or hides behind pension plans
And water park coupons
Only valid till life or summer ends.
Or rings the bell precisely when
The one waiting has decided to
Use the loo, the Japanese kind,
With lots of sounds to obscure the lots of things
That go on in loos.
What sound did she pick finally?
The sound that deadened its arrival
Scatology and love only mix in tragedy
But, like old friends gone sour,
They do produce
Timely comic relief.
Because, like all words,
The post will find, somewhere out there,
- - -
Rovel Sequeira is studying Literature at St. Stephen’s College, University of Delhi, for an MA degree. He is constantly interested in the links between Literary and Political discourse, particularly in the use of narrative and rhetoric in debates on Gender Rights. In his spare time, he attempts to come up with something approximating poetry and day-dreams about writing a novel.