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| Vamsi Viraj |
I sit here standing
unable to end starting
and actually write something
on my Deutsche Lit. Assignment.
My mind doesn’t mind
as I think of things
depressingly delightful
and wantonly wonderful.
What if by the jinx of Lady Luck
the front of our professor’s back
is complemented with spasms?
What if some twist of fate
renders him actively inanimate
in the broad light of mid-night
leaving him happily paralyzed for life?!
But what if just like all other days
something spectacular never happens.
Armed with alarming nonchalance,
what if he asks for his Assignment?
(With a face that is cruelly kind
You would think he’s strictly mild!)
in the broad light of mid-night
leaving him happily paralyzed for life?!
But what if just like all other days
something spectacular never happens.
Armed with alarming nonchalance,
what if he asks for his Assignment?
(With a face that is cruelly kind
You would think he’s strictly mild!)
And I show nothing but a gay grimace
along with an expressively blank face...
What if? What if?? What if?!
Pondering over the impossibility
of such plain possibilities
I am but left to sigh and smile
over my realistic fantasies so vile
as my pen tries to crawl rapidly
to write some gravely funny stuff.
Like a blind old beggar looking
for riches he’s copiously lacking,
I search among new classics and more
scouring recent bestsellers of yore
trying to plagiarize some original copy
of a seriously humorous poem, novel or movie.
I am cheerfully discouraged by my friends
to write anything conservatively blasphemous
and to refrain from doing a parody.
of such plain possibilities
I am but left to sigh and smile
over my realistic fantasies so vile
as my pen tries to crawl rapidly
to write some gravely funny stuff.
Like a blind old beggar looking
for riches he’s copiously lacking,
I search among new classics and more
scouring recent bestsellers of yore
trying to plagiarize some original copy
of a seriously humorous poem, novel or movie.
I am cheerfully discouraged by my friends
to write anything conservatively blasphemous
and to refrain from doing a parody.
Spurred by uninspiring prospects
of writing a short-story too long
I just don't know what to do...
Seeing what I had written was substantially small
and any writing till now being pretty ugly
I try to think up a convincing excuse
like a death in my family-a lively funeral
or something more shockingly plausible
like sick health for example
or curable frostbite contracted
on the blazing glaciers
off the coast of Madras!
(Anything to postpone the submission date
though I know it’s already too late).
At last a heavy lightness descends upon me
My mind dwells on a bit of philosophy
‘Who am I? How does any of this matter?’
Looking up calmly with a fright
and hearing the world thunder silently
I let out a muffled scream
All around me is just dark light
of writing a short-story too long
I just don't know what to do...
Seeing what I had written was substantially small
and any writing till now being pretty ugly
I try to think up a convincing excuse
like a death in my family-a lively funeral
or something more shockingly plausible
like sick health for example
or curable frostbite contracted
on the blazing glaciers
off the coast of Madras!
(Anything to postpone the submission date
though I know it’s already too late).
At last a heavy lightness descends upon me
My mind dwells on a bit of philosophy
‘Who am I? How does any of this matter?’
Looking up calmly with a fright
and hearing the world thunder silently
I let out a muffled scream
All around me is just dark light
coupled with deafening silence.
Nothing seems like what it seems
My consciousness murmurs loudly,
“You moron!! Stop this coherent babbling
and start on something loosely concrete”.
Nothing seems like what it seems
My consciousness murmurs loudly,
“You moron!! Stop this coherent babbling
and start on something loosely concrete”.
Thus rudely awakened from my reverie-
Cursing my constantly variable ideas
and bending my back forwards
I scribble on, searching for words
Looking at stars in the sky
that is overcast with clouds
As they twinkle darkly..
I undecidedly determine to create
a work that’s ingenuity(or insanity!) incarnate.
Cursing my constantly variable ideas
and bending my back forwards
I scribble on, searching for words
Looking at stars in the sky
that is overcast with clouds
As they twinkle darkly..
I undecidedly determine to create
a work that’s ingenuity(or insanity!) incarnate.
The very brave Vamsi Viraj (2nd Year MA) wrote this as a part of an assignment on humour. You may be pleased to note that the professor concerned was quite tickled by it and he escaped, unscathed and with an A.
gud 1 mate :)
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