That place where poets go to bask in the sun
that set for the moon in their metaphors,
espying the desis and the firangis with contrasting adjectives- lewd and lucid, blasphemous and beautiful.
That place which no poet ever writes about.
Not an ode to the assiduous sandcastles,
to the mother removing water from her I-am-a-little-teapot girl,
to the twins wrapped like snakes around their father’s trunks for legs.
After sunglass-slipping to nosebridge, slant glances giving to juveniles, the admirers of exotic
ethics return to pen on the sapless soil knitting noose for thirsty necks, osseous children
with perilous toys of ebullient trends and their pregnant mothers with no flesh,
praises for old gods and satires for modern devils but nothing for Kokum Feni Toddy
But don’t be so disheartened O’ Vijay’s conquest,
I will write a sonnet for the half drowning beachballing kids at Colva Beach,
for the rebellious kiss outside Basilica of Bom Jesus,
for the camera conscious flamingos of Salim Ali’s,
for the Max Cady saint under dudhsagar falls
but nonotnever for the poets reclining and engaging in their acts of poetic voyeurisms.
Ajay is a high school student currently studying in Kendriya Vidyalaya OFDR Pune where he is the student editor of the school magazine, Abhivyanjana. He is enthusiastic about many things ranging from worldbuilding to conlanging to exploring mythologies. He is passionate about professional wrestling and regularly writes wrestling related articles for Sportskeeda.