Who are you to judge me?
Will you look at me waist up or waist down?
At the Linkin park cap worn carelessly on my head (Did some NRI gift the surplus from a show in a seeming gesture of benevolence?), at the crisp checked pattern of my pink shirt (Could it be from the '3 shirts for 100' sales of secondhand goods spread out on the crowded TNagar market floors?), at my glowing eyes (Does he suffer from cataract?), at the estimated cost of my handheld phone (Is it a cheap Jio smartphone, like the ones migrant labourers carry, on crowded train compartments, and watch YouTube videos all day long?)?
Or at the blue checkered cheap lungi I wear in a casual halfhearted aim at modesty (Could it be Bombay Dyeing's premier quality ones just a little unstarched?), at the worn-out chappals that keep my callussed feet from further harm (Could it be some incurable allergy on the foot?) (Could the sandals have just got caught in the slush outside)?
Do you wait for me to speak on the phone and say out loud words like "sarakku" (literally 'goods', here referring to alcoholic drinks)? Would you change your opinion if, instead, I referred to some champagne tonight?
Ah, you squint your eyes and size me up with your devouring senses and your voyeuristic imagination, I know! But let me tell you a small secret; it may actually be of help to you: you know what, I care a damn for what you think; my life, I live the way I want!
Will you look at me waist up or waist down?
At the Linkin park cap worn carelessly on my head (Did some NRI gift the surplus from a show in a seeming gesture of benevolence?), at the crisp checked pattern of my pink shirt (Could it be from the '3 shirts for 100' sales of secondhand goods spread out on the crowded TNagar market floors?), at my glowing eyes (Does he suffer from cataract?), at the estimated cost of my handheld phone (Is it a cheap Jio smartphone, like the ones migrant labourers carry, on crowded train compartments, and watch YouTube videos all day long?)?
(I saw this gentleman earlier today. I hope he won't mind this unwanted publicity.)
Or at the blue checkered cheap lungi I wear in a casual halfhearted aim at modesty (Could it be Bombay Dyeing's premier quality ones just a little unstarched?), at the worn-out chappals that keep my callussed feet from further harm (Could it be some incurable allergy on the foot?) (Could the sandals have just got caught in the slush outside)?
Do you wait for me to speak on the phone and say out loud words like "sarakku" (literally 'goods', here referring to alcoholic drinks)? Would you change your opinion if, instead, I referred to some champagne tonight?
Ah, you squint your eyes and size me up with your devouring senses and your voyeuristic imagination, I know! But let me tell you a small secret; it may actually be of help to you: you know what, I care a damn for what you think; my life, I live the way I want!
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