Inheritance
1.
I did not inherit much from paternity
Except the allergy to democracy, the immunity to funerals
Testicles refusing the touch of underwear
Passion ending in disappointment.
At thirteen, I undermined the art of hobnobbing
Becoming all dwarf and awkwardness in father’s denims
While I made of him a series of anti-climaxes —
Replacing theorems with poetry.
My mother, a colonized remainder of sentimental raconteurs
Prepared thesis about my agnostic neurosis
She adored utensils, combs and off-springs
Who pursued routines, instead of soliloquies.
2.
The concreteness of prescribed narratives —
I still remember my faded report cards
Neat red marks, a collage of numbers and alphabets
Within rows and columns, the IQ yardstick…
I have my innocence now, recovered from impostors.
©2023 Kaustabh Kashyap.
