ஒரு கைதியின் புலம்பல்கள்

Am I a racist to have a type? There is Japanese, American, Canadian, Scottish, Indian, and much more… Do preferences make me a bigot? I shall pick a Scot over a Yank—any day— only because she sat by me: day or night, winter or summer, Monday or Sunday, as my muse, as my ambrosia. I hold her, breathe her, taste her. Oh, Aphrodite, let thee not be jealous of her hips— the sturdiest, glossiest, most intoxicating. I sprinkle water upon her, only to see her dance— her erotic curves and shape. My courtesan in retainer. Never will I grown weary of you. Many came; a few competed. A handful imprisoned me in exotic foreplays— only for days— before vanishing into the abyss. I shall never forget you, my lass. Oh, my Almighty, let me be with thee when I draw her my last breath.

I stared into the abyss, With two pairs of eyes, holding her hand. To make the void bright and safe — I presumed. Crossed the hounds of Hades, Cold. With my hands between my thighs, With the caress of my lifeless duvet, Alone in a desolate desert. Did she disappear? Could she comprehend? Maybe I fantasise utopia. Did I forget — Breathing and living, Smiling and joy, Screaming and pain Ain't the same. She — my chalice — and my tears, You all deceived me, Failed to hold, ease, and relieve me of my prison. Is this a prison, purgatory, dream, Or a sick joke? Maybe almighty, maybe aliens, or even evolution — Who is this morbid ringmaster? Am I part of the one? Or will I rot in the ground? I doubt I care — let me be free.

I procrastinated for days, years – even seconds And finally, Rockstar* was on. Maybe procrastination is a blessing It was a solution Or maybe it was an escape Let me not procrastinate. Let me pick up a copy of Anna Karenina Or should I wait? But until when? Until Anna gets to the train station Or until Jordan meets his muse – Pain. * Rockstar (2011), directed by Imtiaz Ali; music composed by A. R. Rahman.

We can see different breeds of people: the social media fakes—the flashy the photographers—the wannabes the families—the deal-finders the bros—the pasty white ducks the artists—the living the drunks and vagrants—the peaceful and I—stuck in limbo…