The Beautiful Madman

'Life doesn't dwell on one but many lives '

I know a beautiful man who doesn't take love to give a thousand

and cast about for smiles behind your masks

before pressing on a promising beam on his face;

someone who doesn't need to brag about the goodness of tobacco and gin 

to convince the people that he has been toiling all day or has this frozen emotion that has to be withheld with pain all over

but gives a 'love' to every kid holding his knee

for his tequila is passing the football back to the kids playing under suspensive balconies

for his happiness is playing effervescent Punjabi hits

during the solemn hours after the darkness hits

waving his lathi forged from plural emotions and strength. 



The sound of the air tripping the light fantastic around his shoulders and lathi, 

fishes out all my doubts 

about the cringing leaves and shadows;

a light amidst the abyss indeed.

His 'good morning' gives out a different sound 

sound of 90s music, of the waterfalls holding hands unto they disperse towards their destinies

strong enough to make a stale watermelon taste sweet

his dastar too is alive- with a heart made of pride, boldness and smiles

and every time there's a tempest over my anxiety sweeping all the shells over my not very flamboyant crust

I remember he'd said

'Every Night has a day where should lie our heart and soul

the thieves find their way through sinkholes during this part of the darkness'

'live the darkness, that's where the millions thrive.'