Tuesday, October 24, 2006


Finally on a hot afternoon
As he was taking a walk
After an unusually late lunch
He found the ultimate ambition
Of his life

“When I am dead,” he told me
With the mock seriousness of a priest
“I wish myself to be cremated
Only by books and printed matter,
And nothing else.”

Something was amiss there and
Something was almost lucid
He was a talented boy studying very hard
For Civil Services
His room was littered with every kind of
Books on history and Geography

‘But darling,” I ventured to contradict
“Human skin is very sticky,
And flesh is very hard
Your books won’t suffice”

‘What do you mean?” he shouted
He meant he wasn’t planning
To die immediately
It would be much after
He gets his his job
And a beautiful wife with whom
He can take long walks
Cars, bungalows, a collection of SRK movies
And an assortment of perfumed condoms

“By then, I will have enough books too…”
Was his conclusion

“But why books?”

“Don’t you realise?
After I get through this damn exam
I’m not going to read anything
For the rest of my life
Don’t you realise how much
I’ll miss these books?

“They say that soul is immortal,”
He spoke biting his nail
“I want the smoke of
Those unread books
To be mingled with
My soul.”


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