Whiite Paper Of A White Tiger Poem by santhana louis

WHITE PAPER OF A WHITE TIGER


At my very door step
Exactly on the same time;
They serve me a square meal
Of chopped up, weighed fresh meat
Tested and vitaminised
Bucket-full of ready feast

…….no ….no…..I am not a VVIP
But, jailed for years
As a rare Bengal beast

One way, I am quite happy
That I need not have to labour
Or strain myself for a small prey
They are treating me as an ‘ex-ruler'
Loss of freedom - I do not even bother

In view of the respects
Care they offer, I feel much better
Than a loner in the forest

Sometimes, I may not be hungry at all
And have to skip a meal
On a long nap in my cellar

Quickly, they will move me
To the veterinary lab
Until they certify that nothing is wrong
Great people and their love and affection
Never allowing me to go fasting or dieting

I meet daily visitors of all sort
Joyous, sad, haves and have-not
Hanging on to the bars with awe and sympathy
As if I am at loss, punished or starved

In fact, through the dividing bars
Watchfully, I come across numerous faces
Dried up and charmless,
With no traces of happiness
And I silently, thank that I was so fortunate

For I can roar, walk majestically
Even under the terms of captivity

The poor people across, are cowed down
With invisible chains and cages
Their roaming and movements at free will
Doesn't make any sense to me

Though, in reality and at this age,
I cannot hunt a tiny rat on my own skill.

Louis Santhana