I too have a Lungi.
Blue in color,
Bought in an impulse,
In a street whose name I have long forgotten,
In the outskirts of Hyderabad,
Six years back,
When I was waiting,
For my office cab.
The whole day,
The Lungi was tucked inside my laptop bag,
As I hovered around meeting rooms,
Solving problems of others and creating a few.
Late at night,
I finally reached home.
My two year old son was still waiting for me,
Anticipating some chocolates,
But behold,
Out comes a Lungi!
'Agreed both our father wear Lungi,
But aren't you too modern for it? '
Opined my better half,
Whose logic,
I dare not refute.
So six years hence,
We have moved across four cities,
We have changed all our furniture,
We have altered our priorities,
But one thing that still remains unchanged-
The blue colored Lungi.
I never wore it,
But it serves as the laundry bag,
To tie all other clothes,
Whenever we give our clothes for ironing.
Rest of the time it just hangs from inside,
Over the window beside my bed,
Shielding me from the morning sun,
Letting me sleep till late,
And yes, it surely feels great.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem