by Kiran Jhamb
(Nagpur, Maharashtra., India)
You say you came to my home
Wrapped in your trousseau
- With a suitcase full of dreams.
I permitted you, not your dreams.
Dreams are cheap, I deal in facts
Cosseting costs a lot though
(Try earning a little dough!)
I did my best.
You had passive dreams
To be fulfilled by me.
Active dreams spell struggle
And not mooning.
I needed a mate, my lady
To walk the hard concrete path,
For cooked meals and laundered clothes,
For sex, a kid or two thrown in good measure,
And not cater to your pleasure.
Through your dream distorted vision
Your old ideal self which peeps
And into a depression sweeps -
Is excess romantic baggage beneath my notice.
Tell me, aren't you fed, housed or clothed?
Don’t you shop and party?
There - I've fulfilled my duties.
Get rid of your dreams,
You opted for security,
Stifled dreams once,
Continue to do so,
If security has lost its glamour
I have nothing more to offer.
You may go.
I haven’t shaped you
You have shaped yourself.
Injured air, long faces, vague accusations
Cannot in me arouse guilt.
Wallow in self-pity
You are not the only victim of the so called spousal neglect
Today you are what you have built.