Rishit Desai

Rishit Desai Poems

Rishit Desai Biography

A student of Sanskrit and Philosophy. Also write essays on contemporary philosophy. You can read them on rishitthinks.blogspot.in)

The Best Poem Of Rishit Desai

The Cobbler

Life in the city is an awful hustle,
We make no time to look around;
Must complete a task to start anew that second,
Even the comforting bed is now a battleground.

This morning was like all the rest,
Who but cares for the cuckoo's nest;
Heart was just another muscle today,
Didn't vex nor pain for the grieving breast.

Eager to catch the first train out,
A push and a nudge bereft of a bout;
Time is a treasure never found in abundance,
To steal a moment is ever the key essence.

In some such days I did find success,
Found a few seconds and a task to attend;
In front of me was this diligent craftsman,
He laboured while I spoke to my friend in Phnom Penh.

He rubbed and brushed and polished my shoes,
Put in all his effort, made them shine like new;
While he then got busy and his tools did he rearrange,
I lauded his effort with disgustingly small change.

So much did I like his work,
That i went to him on occasions many;
Amazing was his love for my leather,
In sun or snow or the floody weather.

Now that I think, there was never between us a conversation,
Face to face makes me coy, such is our civilization;
Wonder what changes me when spoke unabated on phone,
Whilst he worked with his tools I played with my own.

Some went to him to shine,
Some went to mend a hole;
Gave everyone the stitch they deserved,
Be it leather, wood or simply a rubber sole.

The sun ceased its role long ago,
But never did it bother me;
My work went into the night,
The setting one was never for me to see.

Today was but a little different, Lo! beholden,
Cam to the station this time untrodden;
Sinking sun still shone the sky a golden,
Disembarked the same platform, That which was boustrophedon.

Saw the repairman sitting all alone,
As if waiting for someone whilst his hair windblown;
Packed and ready to go were his many-a-tool,
Couldn't figure out what was holding up his schedule.

Stood and watched him pass his time,
So did I as smoke my face atone(d):
He played with the dog or was it the other,
Who derided the shoeman as if a bone.

The next few seconds left me shell-shocked,
In these few seconds my whole life was mocked;
In these few seconds every knit of my veins unravelled,
Left me still, motionless on this platform so often travelled.

Came this youth I took him for his son,
Sat down in front of the ol' man with his back complete;
Laboured limbs latched around with joy and fun,
Piggy back he rode, Alas! ! ! The Cobbler had no feet.

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