(Pic: Taken by me during a Munnar trip in 2008. Curves adjusted, noise added in Paint.NET)
What of old the man in the hills?
Said a father to his child:
He drove away his father – an outcast he made him - that good-for-nothing wretched son!
What of the old man in the hills?
Said a mother to her son:
He looked after his mother as long as she lived – like a Goddess did he treat her - bless him!
What of the old man in the hills?
Said a friend to another:
He killed his good friend in a fit of rage – how strange thought everyone – and prayed for him!
What of the old man in the hills?
Said a harlot to another:
He never forgave his old man, wonder who she was – not that I care - who’s your next one?
What of the old man in the hills?
Said a wife to her husband:
She should’ve known better – how foolish it was – I really do feel for him, the woman a traitor!
What of the old man in the hills?
Said a sage to his pupil:
He wished and prayed and took many vows,
He was granted the one wish that no one was allowed;
Life took a turn for the worse, and how!
‘No man should be able to read another’s mind!’ he then avowed.
Went off to the hills did he, to live the rest of his life,
Alone and deserted – yet mind full of torment and strife;
Suspicion, jealousy, fear and caution had already crept into his life,
Loneliness and pain accompany the rest of his journey rife.
*****
P.S. I suck at writing poetry. I dunno what to call this - prose/poetry. Anyway, an attempt at writing something unlike what I normally write. Criticism most welcome!
