It seemed as though Popoye and Bruto,
Raged in the battlefield of my hair!
Mother wasn’t home that day,
Dada had taken charge
And there it appeared,
A twisted tangled helplessly deformed braid in the mirror
It bore the look his knee joints have now,
Twisted tangled helplessly deformed.
I was late for school,
He propped me up on his bicycle.
He peddled the stretch of 33 kilometers,
With the look of a warrior,
The vigor of a 33 bones old new born.
Only that the stretch of his body
Is now sheathed in 33 creases.
‘’The secret out of the maze of mathematics’’,
He mentioned in an animate undertone,
Is to memorize tables till 12!
His life continues to crawl
Diving desperately to clutch a lungful
In the 12 bones of the rib-cage.
That day he narrated the memoir of partition
Reflecting on the history of each of the 26 states
That comprise of a land he lays his pride on
Today his thoughts pronounce in distorted words
Overlapping and entwined like the 26 bones of his vertebrae
The black of his hair
Has greyed like the front of his eyes
That poured that day
And not many of his 32 teeth remain
He doesn’t bring them to use as much, as it is
Grandmother didn’t last past their 32nd anniversary.