A Jackpot When Takes A Lot
Hard job it was beyond hundred to count,
And he never knew how much a crore is,
And five times that they said would be all his,
Hard it was like taking tiger as mount.
How many zeroes do make one full crore?
It was for him mouthful, a tiger’s roar.
Hope, he prayed, it was large enough a number,
Enough my family and more to feed,
And take care too of some untoward need,
More, to save me a lifetime’s hard labour,
Or else, I will soon be back to square one—
Tea with bare loaf that Bombay calls a bun!
Oh, what an irritating irony?
How can money of all such problem be?
But all of three months it’d take for money
To come; till then he must pinch his penny,
Yon, he need worry no price tag any,
E’en if that be a pricey Armani!
Yet, he seemed not in rhyme with the new fate,
Perhaps, in seeming love with life so lean,
First e’er he felt secure in pauper’s skin,
One, who just had with wealth, a confirmed date,
Nimble as he’d been with sewing needles,
He knew not, money could make such riddles.
No one can happy be with mere penny,
Any talk of prize still on his face shows—
With wrinkled furrows and with knotted brows,
Ah, man’s not happy with tonnes of money!
Happiness! Weird, wayward are thy ways,
A happy bird that no happy eggs lays!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
recently won half of the jackpot of over 100
million rupees in a rag-to-riches story.
Fortune struck the migrant worker but he is
unable to cope with it. He seems more
comfortable with what he was at the moment.
- Happenings | 05.09.04 |
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