Mischief Poem by prabhakar bhatlekar

'How's that your protagonist
is a cage-seller..cages for mice? '
The vagabond hippy writer
stretched on sofa comfortably,
pushing back flaps of
his untidy jacket, answered
'- I found no other subject! '
The packed auditorium laughed.
'- When you thought of.. writing? '
'- After trying out many
unsuccessful things'
Then the answers became too
short to be amusing.
Perspiring interviewer tried
some more questions
'You pointed that ambition,
achievement are stupid concepts'
Writer moved fingers through
wild mop peered somewhere
'Words generally are hollow'
'But you're a write...'
'That's stupidity'
'Sorry? '
'Why you should feel sorry for? '
Interviewer tried to smile.
'Your 'Cages' received award- '
'Am happy..it's a good money'
'You said that you write
to kill your time'
'Well, that's correct.
I cant sit there doing nothing'
'In past being a hip- '
'I've no past'
Smilingly interviewer said
'Your mischievous response..'
'Well, for me this mischief of
being interviewed was not bad.
Life is mischievous...
It's a mischief of time'