One To Ten Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Mad Sital we used to call him
Sital in my language means cool
Though never found in him anger’s steam
He never followed any rule.

If someone asked tell Sital
What is your name
My mother knows it all
Pat his reply came.

What class do you read in Sital
What school you are at
His only reply was mother knows all
He would not prolong the chat.

He would be found any time of day
Never minding the sun and rain
Bare bodied standing on sideway
Counting one to ten.

If someone asked him to count ten to one
He fell into silence for a while
Not taught at school still left undone
He would answer with a smile.

We knew he would lead a bachelor’s life
Counting his days up to ten
For no sane girl would ever be his wife
With him on the bed be lain.

But Providence you know defies hows and whys
Discriminates not between sane and insane
If it hadn’t been so and happened otherwise
Would remain unmarried all mad men.

So there came the woman the beautiful bride
Her face glowing like full moon
In rapturous joy that he never tried to hide
He forgot his numeric count soon.

Mad Sital would talk to her all day long
Her beauty had him so bewitched
They lived happily ever there wasn’t a thing wrong
Never mattered she was deprived of speech.