Aah! It is indeed a quaint addiction,
A lot of love and a little friction,
A melancholic malediction,
But with each passing day it grows – this conviction –
That I cannot live without the hope
That I may embrace her once again.
It is to this weakness that I am beholden
It is this fair maiden whose scores
To a helpless state where
I do as I am told
By my own inner being
By My self
By My conscience
My mind and its faculties which it itself cannot fathom.
I am reduced.
To a humble spectator of its glorious expression
On stage – do not judge me.
Do not judge me
I am helpless –
I cannot help but perform
Let me bask in their love for just a minute more
Just let me soak it in once again I beseech you –
Only this I implore.
‘Twas truly a poet who once said “All the world’s a stage”
And his lies I readily believed.
But it was ere I experienced their love,
Felt them clamouring for me.
(V S Vaidyanathan is an IIMACTS member who sometimes poses as a quizzer. He still cannot believe he gets away with it. He wrote this during a particularly pleasant evening walk to the Gurudwara crossroads.)