He would find himself alienated
in the glittering glamour of lit-up streets
He would whisk himself away
to the darkest corner where
he would cease to be identified
by the fashion he wore

For his fashion was nameless
none could recognize him
They would look down at him
as if they would look down
to their own naked selves

For they were afraid to be naked
where they were not fashionably clothed
not even with a fashionable perfume

They were afraid of their own naked selves
They thought it would unduly stink of their insecurities
For they lacked any other recognition otherwise

On such people’s land, on their glittering streets
he would hole himself up in the darkest corner
A corner such, from where he could ignore all brands
and get to know someone who is human of sorts

He still stands in that darkest corner.

Alhad Mahabal
26 Nov 13
7:25 PM
Dedicated to this new “Parker” Pen that ignited this and put first draft on the paper.


5 thoughts on “Lokhandwala”

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