Masked \ Unmasked Poem by Santosh Bakaya

MASKS
Countless are the masks that we wear, the roles that we play
Every second, every moment of our lives.
Now rising, now diving, now traipsing through life with fake smiles.
Now darting, like wounded animals maddened by pain.
Running after mirages, hankering after gain after gain.
Hopping about, fuming, imploding, frothing at the mouth, exploding
Like rats squeaking and scuttling about in the darkness, blundering.


At times like a boat quivering and groaning
In the grip of elements.
Writhing in a death agony
Backpacking through the wilderness
In the jungle wild, taut with apprehension.
At times gorging on fluffy omlettes and chocolate cakes
Sitting in the patio of a five star hotel
Eavesdropping as the turquoise blue Sea
Hums out its secrets
Unasked.

Under the tree sits a bedraggled beggar old
Into his skeletal body has seeped the cold
Wiping his watery eyes with knotty knuckles.
Unfazed by the young boys and their naughty chuckles.
Eyes fixed on beasts of burden carrying dung cakes.

He wears no masks
But sits there, unowned, uncared.
His bruises and scars unmasked.
He gets those contemptuous looks and cold indifference,
All unasked,
As he slouches in the dreary alley, unmasked.