Bhaina's Story

I must be the world's laziest blogger. Its almost been a year and the only thing I could come up with is story that I was asked to come up with in an hour and a half for my college's committee interview. This was the product of that drowsy early morning:

Here is a story to be told,
One that I cannot withhold,
Although not much I may be,
Am just a mess bhaina you see,
It was that time of the year,
When fresh ones walk in like lost deer,
With a strange look in their eyes,
After they bid Mom & Dad goodbyes,
They turn around and see,
Two years ahead at XIMBee,
I don’t know why they come here,
What this MBA is, is not so clear,
The mess is where I spend my day,
Working hard like animals that bray,
It is only when they come to eat,
The fresh ones do I get to meet,
Although they may not talk to me,
Their lives unfolding I can see,
This story is about one such fellow,
Who seemed to be rather mellow,
Alone he always came to feed,
Eating with not much greed,
After the passing of a few weeks,
Love blossoms & romance reeks,
The fresh ones pair up you see,
And the mess is full of a he and she,
But not so with our fellow,
Who seemed to be rather mellow,
Alone he still came to feed,
Eating with not much greed,
But a change in him I did spy,
A he and she had caught his eye,
A woeful glance he cast on the two,
Realizing it was too late now to woo,
Every meal it was the same story,
A forlorn look at his amoré,
But one day our poor fellow,
Who seemed to be rather mellow,
Walked up to the he and she,
And tried being as friendly as he could be,
But it didn’t go our fellow’s way,
He and she ignored him the next day,
Our fellow’s woe was clear to see,
But the mess is a lonely place as can be,
The lady had shattered his heart,
And the only one who knew handled a mess cart,
Then one day I saw him take out his phone,
And take a photo of the two on his own,
I think that was his way of being with she,
At least that was what was thought by me,
Then one day his phone he left behind,
But I picked it up, being of sound mind,
Just a mess bhaina I might be,
But curiosity got the better of me,
It may not be something that I own,
But I do know how to operate a phone,
I opened the pictures just to see,
How besotted he was with She,
But not a single image was of her,
Images of He were all that there were,
I realised where his heart now lay,
Our fellow was what they call “gay”,
I know I am not very smart,
I just handle a mess cart,
But such a shock it was to me,
To see a He in love with another he,
And that is why I say to thee,
This is a twisted love story.

1 comments:

hehe... dude, u write awesome!

August 9, 2010 at 12:52 AM  

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