Eyes that See May Not Say
Nobody would tell us
If we were progressing or not.
At school, we hoped
The bell came before the cane
To return to the arms
Of our grandmother,
Who picked us up
Like ice-cream cones.
We ate candy-floss
Bullying other kids,
The grey-haired woman
Chuckled and pinched our cheeks.
Back home, our loving parents
Grabbed each other’s throats,
While we cheered and watched them
Like carefree English kings
Stalling the final Norman assault.
We were already too tattered
Too terrified to be kind,
The two agile hands
That grew us up
Grew comatose and left us.
Penniless and passive,
Mortgaged to the world forever
Since no money meant
Voluntary attempts at happiness.
Nothing from the inside. Nothing left inside.
Even today when I have little left
Of the grandmother in me,
That sickly creep of a coma
Makes me wonder
If she ever did a better job
Than me.
© Kaustabh Kashyap
