To Quill the Mocking World
By Daksh Shah
(4 min read)
I wanna tell tale of a day best forgotten,
A day involving an apple, shmuck and loads of ants;
Even worse, the apple was rotten;
It was the day: the day i lost my pants.
An unusual chilly morning like none other:
Simmering sallow Sun and dazzling dripping dew;
The cause of misery, viz. my little brother,
Coz of whom the goodness of the morning out the window flew.
At 5, he was a bumbling mumbling chump.
In his urgency he couldn’t find the loo;
Thats when he decided to take a dump
Right on the zipper of my spare pantaloons!
I woke up then to the smell of garden lillies,
As well as yesterday’s baked beans
(With all the musky intestinal spices),
And realised i’m missing my favorite jeans.
My school is strict about our uniform
So wading in deep waters i was
with one blue jeans unknowingly misplaced
and the other had a smelly gift from young Santa Claus!
So in a jiffy i ran to mama
On the brink of tears the size of elephants
Told her of my sad sorry senile dilemma
“Mama, mama, i think i lost my pants!”
Ever the saviour, and after her affectionate kissy
Thinking her innovations were my defenders
She wrote the teacher her excusing note in a jiffy
And sent me to school in sleek and shiny suspenders.
Now i was grumpy and you know why
So dad tried to distract me with scrabble
And lest i should begin to cry
Mama gave me the aforesaid red apple.
So apple, suspenders and me went to school
Matching-matching colours all three
All the bullies would wanna drool
For different shades of red were we.
And thus we confronted ma’am Perdew
Whispering, stuttering, reasoning my attire
Yet despite all attempts the chinese whispers flew
My embarassment set the gossip-mongers on fire.
I sat down quietly at my desk
Sat through the lecture without incident
But little did i know that the devils grotesque,
To humiliate me were totally hell-bent.
All the day girls hid their faces from me
I thought t’was because they were shy
“Not so”, said my pal Timmy
And pointed to my open fly.
So i hastily stoppered my post-box,
With my ears attaining a burgundy hue
Then with stealthy guile i opened my lunch box
And shared my apple with Jimmy and Stue.
Into three pieces i cut the apple
Twice the cutting p-rocedure i repeated
But the lords with my luck did grapple
For i found that only mine third was fetid.
Come day end i ran home extremely tearful;
If my day had begun bad, the ending was amazing
Amazing, fantastic and excruciatingly painful
My dog Swampy on my lost jeans was grazing.
Of my luck to the lord i must write a letter;
And yea oh yea i forgot about the ants
But that was the day i lost my sweater
Not the day i lost my pants……
Daksh is a guest author at Soulgasm.
(Click here to read our first book “Mirrored Spaces” : A poetry and art anthology in English and Hindi with contributions from 22 artists)
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