About the boy

Rasa sat at a distance and looked askew.
Rasa felt strange. Yes, she felt new.
Gone was the throbbing in her head of many's frivolous pastimes.
The boy glanced at her (along the same lines)

Alankrit

In grey Doon a boy was born
with many neighbourhoods to haunt.
Mama's god gave him words as sweet as wine
but not as sweet as what he wants.

He slept with a weaver bird's nest above his head
around coloured books in shelves.
Around midday baby loved reaching up above his crib
and slothfully stretching himself.

At fifteen he was confused,
society bade him choose sides.
To protest all that was wrong with the world
he left his shoes untied.

At eighteen, placidly among the rabble he took to talking like a sage.
Mother bade him be like the other boys and dream dreams of maximum wage.

"Act your age !"

Away from sallow guitars! Away from plaints of the shattered and the broken...

he ran to the bottom of the lake.

 






Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.