I am a golden fleshpot that sits
Between his thighs half hiding,
When he bathes sitting easy on
A low stool, enjoying the ceremony.
Soon dried, I get partly covered,
Accompany his wife and daughter
On a Sunday afternoon to a movie
Whose name neither he nor I know!
It is at Cinemax Bandra, I get samosas
Pushed in, and popcorn half-pasted,
Two cups of coffee with sugar
In Red Lounge in penultimate row.
I make him send his trousers to mend
By an inch or two, and then later on
To tighten when he decides I am
Pushing up his space, and reduces me.
Diabetes medicine creates hunger
And I grow larger, though he tries
Hard every morning in the gym
To keep the rest of them right-sized.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem