Maharashtrian Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

Midway between Pune and Mumbai
On the Expressway, like everyone else,
We stop for a bite and cup of coffee
Plebeian, and step out to see other shops,
While driver Mukesh finishes his vada-pav.

I see some fruits which look attractive
In a pink net-type of bag and I enquire:
He says ‘It is chikku fruit’: I want to buy,
I ask for price: it is fifty rupees
For twelve of them: Sameer and I can eat.

Moment he saw me putting hand in for money,
He asked “Want to buy? ” and before I can say yes,
He continued: “Give change, I have none”
My hand stayed on, his tone was abrupt;
I didn’t come out with the 100 rupee-note.

I walked away. He didn’t care about it;
He didn’t care to make any efforts
To run around and get change from
Neighbors; it is typical of this local region.
Nor is there any regret or concern.

‘Marundhya’ meaning ‘Let it die’ ‘let it go to hell’;
Is what he says openly, and she in her mind.

Maharashtrians are tough and honest, reliable:
But will never be interested in business or sales.