Tête-à-tête over Chow Mein
I have just one regret;
It's silly, but it is still a
fact.
There's this one thing that I never
get!
I never get to wait and to get
annoyed.
Soon I find myself checking a few
statues,
or half writing a couple of random
sentences,
But then, suddenly, I feel the
fragrance hitting me.
It's a close range shot,
It's a shotgun, not a sniper
rifle.
The impact is loud and
damaging.
Oh how I crave for that
damage.
I look up, and time seems to have
frozen.
I shift a bit from the comfort of
the cozy sofa,
And there she is, smiling and
without a mask.
Before I can say hello;
she gets closer and starts sharing
the O two with me.
A closer, visual inspection reveals
a slightly different shade of hair
But before the question crosses the
lip's border,
She replies, hey, this is just the
thing that makes the hair color different.
It's the same thing that the
"mooned" religious leader used to apply on his beard.
It's been settled, and discussed a
number of times before.
We don't like chop suey, it's too
American for our Chinese taste.
Hakka noodles is a stranger, spicy
noodles doesn't agree with the tastebuds
So Chow mein it is, and pad Thai
never gets the nod,
Thanks to its dubious pronunciation
whilst we stay Bengalis.
No, there is another regret!
It's less silly, but it is still a
fact.
There's another thing that I get
less;
It's the calamities, discords and
stress.
Eating food seems like a great idea.
It provides a brilliant excuse, an
excellent endeavor.
It helps to dig deeper and to get
mesmerized.
Is it the poetry, or the calm
confidence?
Which makes things sultrier?
Where have all the strawberries
gone?
I hear, they have been mashed and vandalized!
Or rather, let me make up a new word
to describe their ill fate.
They have been Bengalized and made
in to something that only exists here.
And here I thought fried chicken
burger was the worst abomination!
But no, mashed strawberry with
pickles takes the crown any day.
So risky raspberries and the good
old friend liquid tangerines.
They brought us a smile and a
casual, one sided ignoring.
One nation tries to warm up, the
other ignores.
A fly sits on a grazing cattle, and
claims
Hey, "we" are cultivating
the land.
Similarly, the guy here keeps
getting more and more addicted;
And she keeps getting away, or does
she?
And not just away, she has her own
destination to visit.
The visit that sounded minor, but on
certain days, or every certain day, or
certainly, everyday!
It became a topic of discussion.
To him, it always caused a
concussion,
But not in the brain--that'd kill
him, right?
Heart's concussions don't kill fast,
it kills slowly.
Maybe, perhaps--we shall see.
And then, just like all other
puzzles and riddles.
The solution came to him like a
moment of eureka.
He gets a cup of steaming hot masala
tea,
adds a serving of a sweet
delicacy.
Get's indulged in to the ancient
healer.
Adds some casual touches;
He becomes a daredevil, he tests the
boundaries of patience.
He gets indulged for a while, and even
though he gets rebuked.
He is still glad he tried,
For if he didn't, he would never
know the boundaries.
But that didn't solve the
problem,
Taking a feather from a
mathematician's crown did.
Forget all other variables in the
equation
Convert a complex string of numbers
in to common integers
Or rather, take the binary number
other than zero.
Life is simple for plants; they
don't need a menu.
All they can ever eat, and fall in
love is with the carbon dioxide.
They eat our poison so that we can live
happily.
And what a happy life the trees
have.
They have happiness until they are
dead,
because they get free food as long
as they live.
And their free food is someone
else's poison.
