Whenever I pass the old stable here
While dropping my beloved wife
To the Day Care Center,
On the way back I stop for a while.
Oh! Poor Race Horses in the Victorian Era
Now very old and hard to neigh
Really I could count their ribs.
I am sorry That I couldn’t bring you something to eat
Because I am out of a billet now.
Looking for a job and ckeck the vacancies everyday
That’s written in the sky?
Not much Horse dung here otherwise I could have clean them voluntarily.
I flew back to my hard days Pony in an Amusement Park.
Borrowing my brother’s Nikon F2 Mechanical camera
I took photos of the flowery children on horeseback
Developed and printed them in my life’s dark room
Sold them cheaper at their doorsteps.
Out of few Rupees a lump sum to poor jockey
And a bag of brown sugar to the Pony.
Besides my beloved’s pregnant for the eldest
And hardly she made snacks with wheat flour, slightly mixed with chillie powder.
Midnight we packed them into our friendly cellophane bags
And early in the morning I jumped to a Double-decker
Carrying the stuff in my old haversack to the Magnetic Cinema Theatres in the City!
* To my poet fiend Premji!
Here’s my poor film script for your true-dream film, hope that should go to all the film festivals Worldwide one day!
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