A mid-week read

 I wrote the following piece as a teenager, three years ago. It was then I had started taking interest in people and their varied traits and constitutional attributes. I am sharing a product of one such study on a real subject who believed and acted in the most peculiar ways. Another aspect of this poem includes a journey through the picturesque alleys of human thought, perception and behaviour.

 
The central idea of the poem occurred to me while I was visiting some geographically isolated farms and came across a few educated people who preferred to live in seclusion.
This poem is about a man who is displeased with himself and the world around him and makes up fantastic theories on teaching people (associated with him) a lesson..
 
Here it is. Enjoy..
 I sit with my teapot wondering thus,While the world is full of trouble and fuss.Each fuss is singular, trouble and all

However, I contemplate how it shall be

If I accumulate them, you see!

I am a man frequently laughed at

It’s not upon my pragmatism, now that’s odd!

If it’s my poverty that they find funny,

That is because the world is governed by money!

It is also my reserve they mock and leer

As if it were a communicable gene, they fear.

What I find demeaning I find them cheer.

What I find rude they find it fair.

Thus, my singular problems seem never to disappear!

They are a complacent lot, so pleased with themselves.

Say a word against them if you have lost your senses!

They speak and do whatever they please,

But I am slow to forget my injuries.

Now, I am a man of sense and honor,

Impecunious perhaps, but sincere

But my teapot, I must tell thee

That I must give them as much trouble as they’ve given me,

For I am sane and sensible, you see!

For my part, I can come out clean

As I have every reason for not having a bean.

I have a good reason for my poverty.

I have one for my alacrity.

One for my misfortune is preserved,

I now have an occasion for it to be served!

Long ago, I took upon myself a lot of chunk.

As I was young, I did not give hard work a bunk!

My father’s friends were influential people

They could make anyone cripple!

But they found my ideas jolting

And I found them most revolting!

They offered me a job tenaciously,

But I declared against it assertively.

I have not been wandering aimless,

Then there’s always the fame, no less.

And when I was hard on pennies,

I rent my father’s house to a man who sold chimneys.

I moved myself into a small cave,

Without a word or a wave.

People ran to me in my better days.

Now, they hide themselves at the sight of my face!

For a few, whom the honor befalls,

Seem to scatter, stumble, and have their falls!

They always seem ready with some sad news or excuse.

I feel sorry, as their troubles seem never to diffuse.

However, I sit with a renewed hope

Of repairing a chair I once broke,

When my tenant sends most generously,

A quarter of the rent, bimonthly!

Beneath a façade of sweet-scented jujube,

Oh, how full of problems their lives must be!

But I shall not make them flee,

For I am a gentleman, you see!

However, I shall give them a greater trouble;

Bigger than any, they have seen bubble!

I shall force a problem so crude

That they shall not have time to intrude

Upon matters which are not their own

And others, which they willfully condone!

I must start small, not act too clever,

I must give them a chance so they don’t waver.

My plans now remained only to be implemented

And I awaited a chance to be complemented.

When there was a household murder,

It did not give me the familiar shudder!

Instead, it evoked in me

All the desire to write my eulogy.

I saw my chance thus come by!

I rubbed my hands gleefully

For they shall be misled willfully!

I sat with the police and amused them well,

Ha! I was clever I made them swell.

Confounded, confused and utterly clueless

They came back twenty times, no less!

I saw no point in troubling them further

That I shall help them, they did gather.

They begged me for help which made me complete.

How foolish had I been in retreat!

Poor wretches, how I knew them inside-out!

However, there was more trouble without

My placing a helping hand;

My creating some of a new brand.

But in the end, it stirred their belief

that I was the murderer and a thief.

Ah! It certainly was a sigh of relief!

So after my grand revelation

I am retiring from my mission.

I choose my remaining words with caution

For I have taken all the precaution.

I searched around me it was you

Perhaps you will too say gladly adieu.

The sooner I shall be gone the better

As I am leaving them a gift for later.

The world seemed to be insanely unreal

For I was the sanest and not surreal.

(c) 2009, Ananya Mukherjee. Do not copy.

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