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Civility


(Poem)

 1
They say you cannot call a hole a hole.
But unfortunately, I said it.
And they stared at me with all disgust.
They cuddled on the shoulders, squeezed a little,
Turned to each other, grinned a little (sorry, ‘smiled’ would be
more appropriate a word!), blinked and muttered…
Haven’t you read Freud?
No sir…Yes sir... I didn't know what to answer.
But they were kind to me. They took pain to explain everything:
Hole, you know, is politically incorrect.
That’s sexist, you know!
It’s simply ‘an unoccupied space.’
‘Oh, thank you sirs,’ I expressed my gratitude,
But never dared to ask what they do with that ‘space’.

2
The restaurant tables were empty
Except the sugar-pots and thin layers of dust on them.
Few house-flies used liberty to swirl around
And occasionally landed on the table to toss their ‘mouths.’
For me, it was enough to smile all alone!

Oh, sorry… I didn't notice them,
They’re already seated on the chairs.
Sorry, I didn't really hear them talking;
Probably, it wasn't the right time to smile.
But unfortunately I did it.

And they stared, and frowned at my incivility.
They pulled out the napkins, then sneezed and coughed,
And bruised their noses in the best civility possible.
I hate Kathmandu. I too hate it.
They were cursing the dust, which they think
Is solely responsible for their misery.
I was really sorry for them.

That was not the last meeting anyway,
There were occasions when we met again.
Every time we met thereafter,
I was conscious not to smile
But would pull out a napkin, and sneeze in civility!

3.
In my ‘slum,’ I speak my mind
And I speak my way.
When I find something beautiful, I call it beautiful.
But they told me, it’s not the same in the metropolis.
Here beautiful girls are not beautiful, but sexy
And those damned men, they are all ‘sexist.’

If this is so, I told them,
I too would love to live in the city!
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