SANAT Ghosh
Howrah, West Bengal
“Bistu, tell me, where to now?
That heavy load you drag somehow!
Your hands hang loose, your back’s not straight,
You sway along at steady gait.”
With a chuckle, Bistu said,
“Kesto, you don’t use your head.
This is my habit every night,
A lonely walk that feels just right.”
“Well, well,” you joked, “your middle’s grown,
A heavy land that’s all your own.
So folks, with laughter everywhere,
Call you weighty with a stare.”
“Let them talk, I do not mind,
Rice and puffed rice fill my grind.
Since all eyes turn to watch my way,
Write of this strange belly today!”