Puppets
Dark, wet and a spongy layer,
Wraps me up with a safety gear.
A radiant light enters my shell,
I hear a woman yell!
This is the world, this is the norm,
Thousands of questions in my mind roam.
These are your hands and these are your feet,
With the society you ought to be sweet.
But what is the society?
And why are there rules?
What is this life?
And why are we treated like mules?
Why should I go to school mother?
Why should I mimic another’s dream?
Why can’t I discover for myself
The basic motive of my being?
We are all the puppets of God my dear,
We must adhere to our form.
We are continually prodded by sin and fear,
Inherently we must resign to this norm.
Society and people dictate my life,
At 25 I Must become a wife.
I’m ripped of my basic attire,
At 60 I Must retire.
Now I face the withered being in the mirror,
Suddenly there is a burst of terror,
I shiver as my muscles tense,
Deceit is what I strongly sense.
I am successful,
This is my name,
This is my body,
This is my frame.
But if this is my body,
What is my soul?
Who am I,
After all?
How did I enter the dark wet shell?
Who played this trick so well?
My torso will wither once I die,
But where will “I” go I fail to defy.
Why did I do all that I did?
Why was there good & bad deed?
Why did I follow the rule?
Why was I such a big fool?
But alas, I had to fulfill my deed,
Whether good or bad I was made to do what I did.
I Had to follow THEIR rule,
Or I would have been ‘their’ fool.
By our very own
HETA BHUTA
I remember this poem when my classmate and friend Heta had written it .. and all of us got together and one by one read this poem in class.. Gosh ! How easily life runs .. ! I am in my Final Year of College already ! ..
