Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, I won't be dead till you know I am alive. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

T Manecklal

That's the name of a firm.
Where my dad got his first squirm.
His first job, his first hope, his first ray, to be a man and grey.
He used to drive on his Java 2 wheeler, from Khar west or Ville Parla to Thana.
He got a measly pay.
I guess he started with something which can't fetch our today.
When he got his first pay,
I am ttold he walked in with deserved pride,
Eyes brimming with generations of delight,
A heart full of thanks for all our undeserving fore fathers, dunno what happened to mothers.
And for my deserving grand mother and my loving grand father,
His siblings his little sisters, his lone littler brother,
He cried aloud, sweets I have, these are only I could buy,
Lets gorge in them, as the sky is blue, and thanks to you,
My blood is red, my values stead,
Feast, on the meagre,
My heart is as large as the ocean, on whose shores you have not wandered,
I wish I were alive, peeping from the hole of time,
Seeing his sparkling eyes,
And telling him dad be mine.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, February 20, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Fathers are rough fellas, A because they have to earn the bread, B thankfully its changing, about time women wake up and shake excess fat on their carvings, C. A dad is a dad, you cannot replace him, just as you cannot a mother, so while feminine spirit is duly and must be admired, men should not be pushed asunder. I am a reflection or a mutation of the xerox copy of my dad, I inherited his heart, his soul, his idiocy, his temper, his eternal capacity to love, but I also got my mothers tounge, and the tounge is important, its the real muscle.

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