Swamped together in a spacious room
A high platform poised with chairs
Embellished with the present distinguished
-Mostly women or followers
Or scholars, who were to present there
To harangue and spit on the social taboos
Of which they belong to.
At left corner, a lady in an unending saree
Of dignity and vanity
Stood by the left corner of the stage
And her trained soft cadence
Soothed the ears the most
Of spectators sitting before.
Speech session commenced with debate and discussion
and ended with hurling condemns on the patriarchy
Raising issues, blaming me and you
-oh! Crying typical terms
The fragrance of dishes in the corridor
Enticed the mind and a spring burst out in the mouth
Conjuring the taste
I clutched the handle of my chairs, tightly
To restrain me of being alluring.
The concern of my sick wife
Soared and fetched my pulsating
Oscillating amidst the thoughts-
Do I wait for my turn to harangue?
Or rush to the hospital to see my bed stricken wife?
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Do share it with your sober and not-so-drunk friends.
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