My poetry collection.

•Pãro, pãro•

The sun pierced the window's glass
and the ray of sun arrived with misty wind.
I touched the floor with my foot and slipped over a wineglass.
Somehow I was able to stand still with a backbone so straight.
And limping with one leg went to the mirror
to see a flower in the unreal and rare world.

Opened the eyes and the whole house was
shanken by the tremulous scream
and I started ranting rudely to those who
saturated my eye bags with so much of igniting
stress who painted them black without turning them to ash.
Cleaning the enamel of my teeth went to the table
to have a healthy and a stomach full breakfast
And there start the ambivalence who is the mother giving birth to my pãro.

My father seeks a favour to not tell the truth
that the wineglass was his and not mine and
mom, there in the kitchen seeks my help to get
some money from my father to have some
shopping today. So, my mind created a plan to do
both of their works and earn a good commission
from both of them to enjoy well
as my heart seeks. And suddenly
there starts a bubbling in my heart that what I did earlier was wrong.
'I need to tell both of them the truth' is the utter of my heart.

I went to some shops to buy some clothes and food by bunking my school.
Went home, but received a chappal so coarsely at the doors threshold.
And so many heart piercing words for bunking the school.
Nobody asked about what happened and why I did so.

After some hours, my father came to take his money he gave to me and started daunting me if I do not give him he will tell it to mom.
So did I did. I daunted him
that I will tell his secret to mom.
With neck down and eyes looking on the floor he left my room.
And within no glimpse of time came my mom.
She started requesting me to give her the money that she gave me as commission.
I refused and she started yelling at me.
So did I did. And she left my room with a sad, dropping down face.

I sat hugging my pillow and felt the pãro too much like the shrill of the voice and cacophony inside me.
But I decided not to step back and tell them the truth where I spent all the money.
Sat on the table to have dinner.
And while having dinner I told them that the money that I had was spent on purchasing
some clothes and some food for the road side people and the orphanage. Now it was the time for them to feel the pãro that whatever they did was totally wrong.

©Ashu

Pãro means the feeling that whatever you do is somehow wrong.