My life is a chingum,
I often expand it, contract it,
Play with my fears in the center,
Stretch the edges of my thoughts,
Blow out a bubble from my desires, and
Watch my ego go puncture in public;
And when the shit hits the roof,
I see those self-images explode flat on my face.
Every suck and crush between the teeth
Keeps releasing the juice of living,
And that's how my chingum keeps me changing.
My life is also like a bread-pakora,
I sometimes undervalue it,
Think of it cheap and accessible
At every turn of the street;
It may be hot and spicy to start out with, but
Then ultimately if not aware
I can end up feeling totally fried and guilty
Of over-indulgence.
Life at times, you see, is also a quickly flowing mango ras,
Beyond the standard worries and churnings,
That sometimes boggle me out of shape,
It is playable and lickable sublime.
On glorious summer days I let the ras
Roll on my tongue ever so slowly and gently,
Till every heart beat turns the
Aam moment into something extraordinary.
Bhai-log, apun end mein bus ek ij baat bolega, "life mein hai na jyaada tenson nahin lenaka!
...Kya?"
