Poetic and Prosaic Writeups

A few words before we go through the poem called ‘Numbness’: Let us all open our discussion with the legendary proverb that “Cowards die many times before their deaths…” Likewise, in this world of decay, disgrace and degeneration, we all are supposedly living our death. That is to say, our corporal bodies are alive, but our within has been slaughtered long ago. Well, who did so? Yes, we did it on our own. Thanks to our great conscience and civilised intelligence, we all are alive, or should we say, we are living and loving our death? Well, we have no option, for sure. Hence, we are bound to live and love our death. We all made it on our own. The consequences are, therefore, supposed to be endured by us alone then. Day by day, we are getting infected with more and more numbness in all respects. We reap what we sow, right? The poem—‘Numbness’ My heart felt so numb That I had to die, I had to, Before death, becoming dumb, In a trance to seek what’s true.   Everything is

Like an umbrella, You protect all of us; Every little corolla Is saved from the fuss. This world may change a lot, But your affection never; Life is a battle to be fought; You teach me so forever. When it comes down to quarrel, You become silent, so silent; Overflows your barrel Of pain and sentiment. I know I cause you pain; I do get over remorse; If it happens time and again, There remains no love, but force. I tell you 'sorry', A word too little to say; It all becomes a different story, As atonement's told 'nay'. As I hurt you a lot, Dad, My heart, too, does, does bleed; My temper turns me as if mad; I commit another ill deed. Still, you keep blessing me, Though I don't change, Dad; I tread on the path of memory To find the best dad. I wish to control my wrath; I do wish to stay calm; To return to the right path, I need you, Dad, my true chum. As the worst sinner, I blame you, I blame mum; I try to be cleaner, But my sins snatch my hum. Life is so uncanny Tha