A Jackpot When Takes A Lot Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

When hard is it beyond hundred to count,
To count up to a crore, punishment is,
And five times that suddenly all is his,
It must be like a live tiger to mount.
God, how many zeroes must make a crore,
Sure, it must be mouthful, a tiger's roar.

Hope, it turns out large enough a number,
A family all thru long life to feed,
And take care of some untoward a need,
Hope, it saves me a lifetime's hard labour,
Or else, I might soon be back to square one—
Tea with bare loaf that Bombay calls a bun!

And what an irritating irony!
How can money, of all, such problem be?
But all of three months would take for money
To come; till then he must pinch his penny,
He need worry thence no price tag any,
I'm told of pricey tags of Armani.

Sure, he seemed not in rhyme with the new fate,
A man in seeming love with life so lean,
First e'er he felt secure in pauper's skin,
A man who has with wealth a confirmed date,
Yea, nimble have I been with sewing needles,
I never knew money could make such riddles.

No'ne happy be with a pauper's penny,
But this prize prints on his face gloomy glows—
Draws wrinkled up furrows and knotted brows,
Such is the tangle of tonnes of money!
Happiness! Weird, wayward be thine ways,
Here comes O Happiness, worrying days!
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A zari worker from Mumbai recently won half a jackpot of over 100 million rupees in a rag-to-riches life story. Fortune smiled at him but he was unable to cope with it, and seemed more comfortable with what he was before the fortune struck.
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Happenings | 03.09.04 |