Looking Forward to a Sexy Evening

 K Radhakumar

I cannot make myself at home
In my own house.
In the evening, I do not read;
I do not watch television.
Without knowing it
I walk around the room –
Listening to tick-tock is my pastime.
In earlier times
When crew-cut was in fashion,
I poured myself a stiff drink
And thought of this and that
My thoughts have no sense of direction, but what they hey!
When drinking no longer enlivened
My dull evenings,
I kicked the habit 20 years ago.
Sometimes I go to the theatre
But before the final curtain
I become restless
And out I go
For a breath of fresh air.
Things are unsettled on the office front
My promotion prospects
After more than 20 years in the job –
What a mess!
My wife lives in her compartment
And my two children in their respective compartments;
I have my own compartment.
We do not speak the same tongue;
There is virtually no communication
Between them, my own flesh and blood and I.
We get compartmentalized
And all the doors and windows are closed
By ourselves?
Or are these closed from outside by somebody?
What if these are closed for my whole lifetime?
When the doors and windows are wide open
Will nothing come into view?
I’d like a room with a view, my love.
My beautiful thoughts
Of long and unending nights,
And by morning
I am a different man.
In the evening
I find myself in the same hot and stuffy room.
Life is rigidly compartmentalized
Into thought and action
Into imagination and reality.
The compartments are never bridged –
Or so the story goes.