Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Lessons in the drizzle


By Shevlin Sebastian 

It’s drizzling

But it doesn’t matter.

I am running, 

Around the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium 

At Kochi.

The ground is wet,

There are water patches around.

So, I take careful steps.

As I go around, 

I see a young man,

In a hoodie, 

And track pants.

He is talking, 

On the mobile phone. 

Standing beneath an awning.

Must be to his girlfriend, 

Because he is smiling.

I think to myself, 

‘What a wastrel. Do some exercise. Get fit’.

But he is oblivious. 

During my next lap,

I see,

A friend has joined him. 

‘Two wastrels’, I think, 

As I start panting.

My middle-age lungs, 

Are aching.

But I like the suffering, 

Because it makes me feel good.

When I stop.

On my third round, 

They are peeling off their track pants.

I run on..

The drizzle has eased up, 

A cool breeze is blowing. 

My perspiration-drenched forehead 

Gets some relief.

Running triggers 

Something primitive in me. 

This is what man did, 

For thousands of years. 

Before the invention 

Of the wheel.

I can hear the thud of feet 

Hitting the ground

Behind me.

It sounds like heartbeats.

Then these two young men,

Whom I derided, 

Whizzed past me 

At high speed. 

Smooth electrifying movements 

Of hands and feet. 

‘What?’ I exclaim silently in my head

My perception was 

Oh so wrong. 

They are athletes, 

And they are swift.

And they splash, 

Through the puddles. 

Fearlessly. 

So I had simply 

Misunderstood them.

That’s what happens to all of us

We misunderstand 

People. 

Places. 

Communities. 

Religions.

Spouses. 

Children.

Parents. 

Relatives.

Is it any surprise, 

Society is so fractured.  

I feel like a fool 

Message to me: don’t jump to conclusions, 

Ever. 

(Published in Hello Poetry)

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