Last night, no light; power off for an hour,
Struggled we two, me and my brother.
I cried, ‘match box’,
He bought a soap box !
I yelled’ ‘torch light’,
He bought a cooker weight!
No cells in the torch
No sticks in the match
No trace of a candle
Waste was my wandle.
Mind went back to my comfort zone
Where the sun is soft, the moon mild
It is a joy even to call back those days
Not to condemn my present days
But fact is fact, now no light
In dark, I sweat.
Absolutely unmoved by heat and darkness
Vicha was singing MasthAn Sahib songs
‘Enough of your Masthan, tell me this’,
I taunted my brother on divine bliss
‘Will you look after the house affair
When I go for my eye repair?’
‘Oh!’, he said meaning ‘yes’
‘Will you look after me?, I asked, next
‘Oh’, he said thrice and continued with his MasthAn!
Suddenly glowed the emergency light,
A hundred candies who lighted
And a hundred matches who gifted?
I turn and see the pooja lamp
Which I lighted in the morning
Still bright, I missed its sight
And searched for a torch light!
We miss to enjoy what we have
And look for what we don’t have
I’m happy I have my kin
To support me wherever I’m
Many miss that bliss, but,
Masthan Saheb, I shouldn’t miss!