Justified

by: Saptarshi Bhowmick

The hazy sound of a ceiling fan

left me awake last night,

when I was deep in thought,

the day’s comical spectacle flashed before me,

like a foreign film, in exotic language;

and with an urban accent it ridiculed me

how alienated I feel towards my own reality.

That day I won an argument.

Against my psychiatrist I called up, a scenario,

where a disillusioned father kills his son;

and bluntly I proposed reasons after reason

in order to justify his sense of justice.

“He just can’t help pressing his pillow.

Only there he was able to finally put a pressure

in his son’s life; and at last the boy was submissive

towards his judgment_

If I recall correctly he polished up a character just

the same as the father, upright;

so bothers not to listen to his elders.

And there I left my statement, sorrowfully,

“His act is justified” and the psychiatrist gave me look

that I never forget till today,

a boisterous disgust in his eyes and scorn for my reality:

And Upon my grand entrance into a populated court-room,

a mob will give out cry_

Tomorrow as they will wait for the judge’s long anticipated statement,

“He is Guilty”,

Just like me;

when I waited for my son,

To be captivated by dark dreams.