The Circle of Love
Once with tears in her eyes and sobs on lips,
Miss ‘P’ presented to me a parting gift –
A precious pen-set on a metallic dove,
In memory of our unsuccessful love.
The gift was a beauty to be preserved,
Just to be looked at and to be fondled.
But its presence was a sorrow for ever
As it reminded me of a tearful beloved.
It was not meant to be used up,
And to pass it on would be an insult;
Yet we are all mortal beings,
With some big and small failings.
After ‘P’ left, I turned to miss ‘A’,
But no precious gift could I purchase;
And to please ‘A’ was must for me
Because she had leanings towards Mr. ‘C’.
‘A’ loved ‘C’ since her college days
And this gift might wean her away.
I gave it to her and she was pleased too
But just to the extent of saying, ‘’Thank you!”
Alas! Miss ‘A’ proved a cunning beauty,
She passed it on to Mr. ‘C’ secretly.
‘C’ too was a bit weak at heart,
He sent it to Miss ‘Y’, a known flirt.
Miss ‘Y’ was cold towards Mr. ‘C’
But she said she could die for me.
So she gifted me the same pen-set
With a little bit of a request.
“ Honey, keep this piece of art,
I bought it specially for you;
I hope you would love it dearly,
As you have been loving me’’.
Thus ‘P’s gift is back in my chest,
I won’t part with it till my death;
Same is the packing, set is the same,
But when I see it, I feel ashamed.
The tale has revealed the colour of love
In our chameleon cunning world.
Remember Bhratrihari’s divine fruit
How it passed from his wife to a prostitute!