Below: The Poverty Lines

© Keegan Crasto

[Rape is a heinous crime. But what is more horrendous is the thought that for every rape case coming to light, there might be nine others going unreported. Which just goes to tell, what a vile world this is, with vilest worms to dwell.]

She came hobbling,

Toward me,

In a crowded train compartment;

Baby in a sling,

And poverty

Clung to her. She went

About asking for alms.

They looked to the side,

And spurned-

Her empty pleading palms,

And a rupee denied,

Though they in thousands earned.

Which made me wonder if her outstretchéd

Arms were, or the world more wretched.

I looked across the aisle

At the boy;

His happy eyes, unblinking,

Made me smile.

But his joy

Also set me thinking:

Why beggars have babies at all?

They don't deserve it-

Sleeping on a station,

After a 'meal' at a stall,

After a day of begging for it.

She drew near; I asked her this question-

"When your own stomach, by poverty, is torn,

Don't you think the baby was better left unborn??"

She spoke in such a voice

At this,

As I'd never heard before,

"I don't know who the boy's

Father is,

Of those fucking four,

Who performed this beastly deed.

Lost have I all faith

In this vile world, and still,

I beg, I plead

Till I'm out of breath,

So my son can have his fill."

Saying this, she moved away from me, and then the baby cried;

My purse-strings remained taut, and yet my heartstrings flew untied.

Strange Love

[Have a lover who lives yonder?
Tell me if your heart grew fonder.]

It's a strange love we share, my dear:
I sleep through your days, and you through mine;
And yet when I think of the times we were near,
I spend your days in reposeless recline.

It's a strange love we share - so strange
That when I call you to set things right
On such days, the elements arrange
For you to be asleep after a restless night.

The Religion of Success

[I do not practise religion as most others do. Not that I'm an atheist..I just believe in a different God.]

A match 'tween Australia and India,
Of cricket was being played;
I joined my hands- along with me a
Billion others prayed.

Australia, a nation of 20 million,
Mouthed lesser prayers:
But on that day, the Australians-
They were the better players.

Requiem for a Dream

[I penned this after watching an exceptionally brilliant PAF at IIT Bombay. I have always been averse to vers libre; however, I wrote this as the words came to me, and there was no other way I could write it.
Dedicated to Anirudh Rao, an IITB 2008 silver medallist ~ my elder brother. Only he knows how much he misses his alma mater.]

I miss IIT.

I miss waking up at 8:15 for an 8:30 lecture; and that too, after my door is nearly brought down by a wing-mate continually banging on it, and screaming my name- my early morning wake-up call, without snooze.

I miss opening my closet, putting on whatever smells fine, stuffing my books in a satchel, scurrying to the mess, grabbing a couple bananas, a glass of milk, and hitching a bicycle ride to the main building- with 5 minutes to spare.

I miss the professors.
I miss the lectures, and miss missing them.
The courses, the labs, assignments, deadlines.
And yeah, I miss missing the deadlines too!

I miss competing with the 9-pointer muggoos.
I miss competing with the 5-pointer huggoos.

I miss studying alone, in groups; the end-sem stress busters, night tea; the night-outs- last ditch efforts to save semesters.
I miss the oddly-timed exams: In the afty, at twilight, Sunday morning, midnight: No bad time for a bad paper.

I miss the results, which very shockingly were announced the very next day.
I miss scoring AB’s in subjects I loved.
I miss scoring BC’s in subjects I didn’t.

Oh! How I miss the acads at IIT!

I miss the PAF’s.
I miss the acting- the emoting; the cheering, the jeering- the anti-cheering.
The plots, the prod, the music, the lights, voice-overs.

I miss Mood Indigo.
The events, the pro-nites, the after-nites.
I miss organising it, and learning more about management than an MBA could.

TechFest, e-cell and Zephyr as well.
I miss InsIghT. I miss reading it, heeding it, contributing to it. I miss the Valfis!

I miss the Inter-IIT badminton matches. Basketball. Cricket, and tennis too.
I miss swimming about the Insti pool, and jogging about the Insti campus. I miss the campus!
The main building, the lawn; trekking up Sameer and watching the dawn.
Main gate, market gate, YP gate, the grounds.
Infinite corridor, semi-; seminar hall, convo.

And how can I forget the ubiquitous lingo?
The enthu, the fundoo, the fart, the fight?
Dayaa, junta, God, give-up?
Arbit, breaker, nbd, pain?
The pondy. The scope. The sorry rahega dost !

Oh! I miss-max the lingo at IIT!

I miss my room- my home away from home.
The mess in my room.
I miss the mess, the food; the TV, TT.

I miss my wing, and everything
about it: Wingies, anti-wingies, with their under-thingies, hung out to dry.
Bathrooms with banners- propaganda for posts. Gen Secy,
Hostel, Soc, Lit, Sports,
Canteen, Maint, Mess.

And yes,
Nine different rooms playing nine different songs.
Nine different people trying to sing along.
And yet when a wingie plays his guitar,
They all gather ‘round him, enthralled as they are.

DC++, the LAN, the LAN-ban.
All the wing,
in an all-night
movie-viewing.
Naruto. Downloads. CS.

The kick-ass
Birthdays, when you get your greets
From your friends’ feet. The wing treats
At Shera’s, Domino’s, BTC, Smokin’ Joes.
Goldflakes, Marlboros, smoking away the woes.
Whiskey, vodka, beer, talli.
Oh! I miss the chaddi-phaad holi!

Standing outside H10, looking at my watch;
A daily dose of coffee and sometimes butterscotch;
Canteen, shack, juice centre- Bhawani;
Huma, Kanjur, Hiranandani.

Oh! How I miss the life at IIT!

I see Padma reading this over my shoulder,
I see, in her eyes, some feelings do smoulder.
She reads it again, and when she hath read,
She tells me- bewildered, and shaking her head:
“But you weren’t in IIT- now just wait a minute.”
I nod my head, “And that’s why I miss it.”

They roll down my cheeks, they are her tears;
Of all that I’ve missed, I miss those four years.

I should have known

[ah! but how could i!]

I should have known, I should have known,
From the start - oh! from the start:
You have a stone, you have a stone
For a heart - oh! for your heart!