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Friends or masters?

With a nicker high above the knees,
A half shirt with no buttons,
Seeing me walking joyfully
On the Habsiguda high roads,
‘Come inside!’, calls my sister
And scolds!

‘The best dress for the Hyderabad summer’
I tell her, ‘is to be with no dress’

‘Are you a baby, peeping from the womb?’
She asks angrily,
‘Or a yogi creeping from the mount?’

‘Animals and birds are blessed’
No worry how to get dressed’
I argue
‘And no sister to get stressed’

‘Clothes are unwanted wives in summer’
I murmur , she gets wild.
‘You need a wife in winter?’
She could have asked, but she didn’t
A Gentle lady!

She sits by me and whispers
‘You are not a baby,
You are not a yogi,
Not a villain in a satire,
Have good attire’

I go home and return
With a full sleeved shirt,
Full pants and coat
A stick in hand,
Walk majestically
Through the Habsiguda
High road.

‘You’re sweating!’, alarms my sister,
‘That is inside’, I utter.
‘what happens inside you, is my concern,
Who cares what you don?’

Funny girls are sisters
Are they friends or masters?

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